Colore della Nebbia
by HalcyonNight
Summary: A young man dies, and in another world a baby girl is birthed. The beauty of the Mist is that it hides your true self. David knew that puberty was going to suck. *AU* *Reincarnation Fic* *Adult Man with no knowledge of KHR is reborn into Chrome's Body*
1. Growth: Alpha

_**Disclaimer: **_**I don't own KHR. sadly.**

**Hi. This is my reincarnation fic, because all authors need one in their life. Also, this first part is surprisingly heavy, because of the death. Future parts will lighten up, and there will be humour, so much humour, but at the start it needs to be dark.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

**Warnings: Language, Death, and I think that's all.**

* * *

Death is the only real consistency in the world.

In the end, everyone dies. Some people live long, _oh so long, _and live life to the fullest, growing old and passing away with little more than a content smile on their face and in the presence of their family. Some people live their hardest until they simply cannot live any longer, burning out like a candle in a snowstorm.

However, some people die before their time. _Long _before their time. They try to cling to life, praying for an anchor to cling too, but they never can find anything to hold on to and they _drift. _They lose themselves in life and _die _because of it. They just go through the motions, as if marionettes in a fool's performance and for all the machinations of the stars in the sky, they are _listless_.

Ironically, I was neither.

I died because, in the end, why _shouldn't_ it be me.

Cancer is a sad way to go. You slowly wilt, a dying flower losing its vibrancy, starved of the things necessary for survival (long-lost memories of the time _before the bed _told me it was due to Magnesium, but all I remembered was that it burned _prettily _before melting away), slowly losing your leaves, and your petals, until all that is left is a stem, a husk of the life left behind.

So at the age of 22, with only my mum as my companion, I lost my final petal.

And so I died.

Before cancer, I had a dream. Or, rather, a _lot _of dreams. I wanted to be a singer, an artist, an author. I wanted to see the world, meet the Queen, become a teacher, and have a family. I wanted to live, and then die when I had fulfilled everything I wanted to do. Maybe I wouldn't be happy, as who could be happy at the prospect of dying, but at the very least I would be content.

If only wishes were feathers. I'd have enough to craft myself a pair of wings to take me _home_.

The thing is though; do I even have a home anymore?

I don't have a home anymore. That much is certain. No longer will I be able to take walks through the park, no longer will I be able to stand in the rain that England was so _lovingly _known for, and no longer will I be able to play in the sun with my little sister.

_No longer will I be able to be me._

"Rather dark thoughts, don't you think?" a giggle later and I felt my sanity crack.

Apparently, I wasn't alone here – wherever here was, anyway.

"I'm dead; my thoughts aren't exactly going to be about fluffy bunnies and rainbows. What do you want me to be? All rainbows and sunshine and _damn glitter beams? _If you want that then _fucking _go find someone who actually gives a _fuck. _"

It may have been uncalled for, and I know it was hurtful, but I couldn't help the spark of vindictive pleasure that burned at the sight of her rather _pained _expression.

She was, well, _beautiful, _and I could easily see myself falling for her, if the circumstances were only slightly different. A visage that looked as if it was crafted by a god - long, cascading locks of flaxen blonde, and a beautiful pair of aqua eyes – she looked the very image of beauty. But there was something wrong with her, something unnatural, and it unnerved me.

"I suppose I deserve that, huh?" She sighed, her eyes glimmering with something ephemeral, before hardening into frigid sapphires, "but this is neither the time nor the place for such anger, as I need something from you."

I couldn't keep the scowl of my face.

"Well, what do you want? I'm _oh so painfully sorry, _but as you can see I'm quite clearly dead, _very _dead. So I don't particularly know how I can help you. I can't even _leave this place, _so I'm sorry if I'm just a tad bit sceptical as to what I could offer you in terms of assistance." I winced, voice rough and scratchy from disuse, gesturing towards the wide plains of _nothing _surrounding the pair of us.

Time had lost all meaning here, in this gilded cage of mine, and I had no clue as to how long I've actually spent here. It could have been days, or years, or even _moments. _

"My name is Sophia, what's yours?" She asked this as if it meant something, as if it was important that I answered correctly.

"My name? David."

Sadly enough, I had almost forgotten it. It just seemed so unimportant, in this great expanse of nothing.

It was as if a heavy burden was lifted over the woman, as if my _name, _of all things had eased all her troubles.

"Good, that's good. You haven't lost yourself yet."

_I haven't 'lost' myself yet? What does that even mean? _

The question must have been painted across my face, or something, because she, _Sophia, _answered.

"This place is the place where all souls go, when they pass on. What you're seeing, this endless white nothing, is in fact a combination of all the souls that have been cleansed of their past life and are waiting, patiently, for their turn to return to the realm of the living as new born babes." She explained.

How she knew all this was beyond me, and I really couldn't care less. All that mattered was that she wanted something.

"So, because I know my name, it automatically makes me eligible for whatever it is you wanted me to do?" Her silence was all the conformation I needed. "So where do I fit in, you hear to cleanse me?"

"I don't know why I bother, but I'm here to give you a second chance."

…_Pardon?_

I, of all people, was being given a second chance?

Something was wrong.

"Why?" I asked, keeping my face straight as my mind raced. You didn't just shrug of Death like an overbearing Aunt and spring back to life Scott-free.

There has to be a reason for it.

"Someone important has died. Someone who is instrumental to the fate of a world, a world completely different from the one you're from. Someone who we have to replace, otherwise humanity will die." Her voice raised an octave, her body shaking with the enormity of the truth.

"So, I, Sophia of the Mist, am asking, no, _imploring _you to help me."

"…Mist?" I couldn't shake the feeling that I have heard that somewhere before?

"Yes, Mist. You may not be my first choice – you don't even have the right _flame _– but you are the first person I've come across and I'm scared and I, no, w_e need you _to accept. So please, promise me you'll help us." she actually reached out to, taking my hand in her smaller one, looking to the world as if she was on the verge of tears.

"So, the fate of humanity, huh?" I mulled it over in my head, the possibilities of what may be reverberating throughout my thoughts.

It was either I did this, or people die. Everyone dies, if I'm lead to believe this woman, and that was something that I couldn't exactly let sit on my conscience for the rest of my non-existence. Or, well, until I melt away into the souls surrounding us.

"Just out of curiosity, who died?" I couldn't help but be curious about the person I'll have to help. Or maybe help wasn't quite the right word; instead, maybe the right word would be _save._

"Nadeshiko Nagi, the Vongola's tenth 'Guardiano della Nebbia'. She needs to be replaced, otherwise…otherwise the future that we have foreseen will not come to pass, and we _cannot let that happen._"

"Nadeshiko…Nagi," I muttered aloud, tasting the name. "I'm assuming that I'm not _blessed _with the same flame type, this Mist Flame, nor by the sound of it the _right gender."_

Maybe it was the shock, but I quite feel as if I'm taking this a lot better than I really should be, considering the near impending gender-swap and the futility of fighting against it, but I suppose that's the effect death has on you.

"Don't even get me started on gender, someone's gender identity is a subject I don't really want to tread, otherwise we'll be here for at least a few years," she grinned, an empty, rather emotionless grin, "Oh, and now that you mentioned it, your flame type is, well _was, _the Sun flame, so really my elder brother should be the one dealing with you, but you're a special case."

_Sun, huh. At least I was a star_.

"That doesn't mention how we're going to deal with the fact that I don't have the right equipment for the job. Sorry." I'm still stuck on how we were going to deal with that particular glitch in the system, as I don't think throwing me inside a dead girl was gonna work out well, at _all_.

"Don't worry about that - I have something for that." Sophia smirked enigmatically, as if she had all the answers. But knowing her, she probably already does. "Just leave it to me, and say hello to that future for us."

She may giggle, but it didn't take a genius to sense the melancholy behind the words, as tears started to glisten in those sapphire orbs.

"W-What's wrong?" I tried to step towards her, but couldn't. It was as if I was stuck to the floor.

"It's nothing," She wiped the tears away, and for the first time, I noticed just how young this _Sophia of the Mist _was. She couldn't be anything more than fourteen, sixteen at most.

"We…we've got work to do. Live for me, will ya?" Sophia didn't stop the tears coming out of her eyes, and the last thing I saw before oblivion devoured us was a glittering purple flame _devouring _a golden flame, and heard a whispered goodbye.

I never did see Sophia ever again.

* * *

Oblivion was suffocating.

It was pain and warmth and constriction all wrapped up into one small, _tight _package, and I _hated _it. I loathed it, despised it, lashed out with my arms and legs and struggled futilely in the dark, screaming soundlessly for my own freedom. I almost regretted it, taking Sophia's offer, but I couldn't exactly say no when it was so important.

I don't know how long I've been here, wherever here was, and I can't even see what was going on. My eyes were unresponsive, eyelids glued shut, and no matter how much I tried I couldn't break free.

It was terrifying.

And then it only got worse.

Oblivion shifted, and the constriction _exploded._

My body, wherever it was, was being forced, pushed, _urged forward,_ and I could only struggle futilely, kicking and screaming and crying and wondering _whywhywhy._

And then it was all over.

"_Nadeshiko-san, it's a lovely, beautiful baby girl," _a voice, rough and callous with age, hissed out, talking to someone else in the room. I was just glad to be out of the darkness, out of oblivion, and into the open air.

Everything was odd here.

When people say all other senses increase exponentially when you can't see, they were telling the truth. Hypersensitive, I could smell everything. The place I've found myself in is sterile, painfully sterile, the powerful scent of _nothing_ burning my senses, and the sensation of cold rubber on my naked skin made me squirm uncomfortably.

"_Nagi, her name will be Nagi."_

I blacked out.

* * *

The next time I woke up, I found myself here. In this room.

It wasn't a particularly bad room. It was a lilac nursery, and looked like every other nursery out there. There was the small, wooden crib, the slowly spinning ring of fanciful nothings, a stuffed teddy bear (though this one held a _blade _of some sort in its comforting hands, and weird symbols were emblazoned on the little creature's belly).

But once more, I was alone.

Bad parenting it may be, but I didn't mind. It gave me time to think, to reflect, to ponder over everything that has happened.

My death, _Sophia della Nebbia, _those 'flames'.

My rebirth, 'Nagi Nadeshiko', my new female body.

It felt…disconcerting, being in essence a self-aware baby. I could spout gospel about Zimbardo, criticise Milgram's experiments and write essays about books, but I couldn't for the life of me _open my eyes._

I wasn't David anymore, and that was the one thing that I had to accept the most.

So I can only cry. Cry and cry and cry. Cry for the family I've left behind, my sweet mother who stood by me until my death bed, my elder siblings that couldn't be there even if they wanted to be, and the children that I would never have. I cried for all the '_what ifs' _and '_could have beens' _and most of all I cried for myself.

I was a dead man walking.

I never even got to say goodbye.

My tears, my cries, must have resounded throughout the household, as it didn't take long for the heavy footsteps of what I'm assuming was my father picked me up out of my crib, cradling me gently in his powerful arms, whispering nonsensical nothings in my ear to calm me down.

I, _Nagi, _didn't stop crying until I was exhausted.

I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, eyes open, and saw my _papa, _I made a promise to myself.

I wouldn't cry anymore.

David was dead, killed by cancer at the age of 22.

Nagi was a new life, a new start. A life which I was tasked to keep safe.

I was Nagi now.

The time for mourning had passed, and maybe now it's time to look towards the future.

I dried my tears.

* * *

**_Chapter 1, Complete._**

**_Oh yeah, one more thing. This is my way of practicing first person lol._**

**_If you have any questions, just ask. In a PM, or in a review, and I'll do my best to answer them._**

**_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll (hopefully) see you next time~_**

**_Signed, HalcyonNight_**


	2. Growth: Beta

_**Disclaimer:**__** KHR doesn't belong to me, unfortunately. **_

_**Hi guys, sorry for this being so late - it was supposed to be out yesterday but it was being a pain. I still am not too happy with how it turned out, so if you spot any errors, or how to improve it, drop me a PM and I'll happily add things~**_

_**On to related news, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE POSITIVE RECEPTION! I didn't expect to get so many reviews, faves or follows so early on. If you have any questions, feel free to hit me up with a PM or in the review section, I read them all, and I reply to all reviews in a PM, unless you explicitly say to not do it.**_

_**Anyway, hope you enjoy Chapter 2 - it is slow, but these fics take a little bit to get to the good bits, and DAvid is still getting used to being a baby girl.**_

_**Italics: Thoughts**_

* * *

There is a reason why babies don't remember their early months.

It's hard, _crushingly_ hard, and all too embarrassing – I absolutely hated it. There is a reason why kids are called 'poop monsters', and I fit that particular stereotype far too well for it to sit right with me. It's a particularly embarrassing moment when a woman who you aren't all too comfortable with coos nonsense at you whilst they change your nappy, staring at you as if you are a particularly delicious meal waiting to devour.

Bizarrely enough, I suppose a positive of the situation was that my _parents, _as loathe as I am to call them that – my _mother _had very rarely come to see me, only once over the year of my existence as _Nagi, _and whilst my father did all he could he very rarely was able to stay around and just talk to me.

Depressingly enough, I knew my nanny a lot better than I did either of my _so-called _parents.

I couldn't help but to pity the life _Nagi _would have lived, for she would have been unaware, unable to change the life that she was born into. She would have most likely grown up, weak and demure and lacking in social skills. She would have lived her life, a shell of a being, unable to do the things that she was supposed to do, until inevitably dying in an accident.

But I'm not Nagi, not completely – _but where does David end and Nagi begin – _and I refused to stand for it.

I had a purpose now. For some bizarre, unknown reason, I had to live. I had to grow up, flourish, and be strong enough to face the world. I had to have the will to move past everything.

Sophia, in some strange and altogether roundabout way, had chosen me.

And I was going to live as hard as a dead person could.

"_Well aren't you a haughty baby, exactly like your Kaa-san," _my nanny, _Setsuna, _cooed from above, her old yet beautiful face smiling at me in a way that was far too accepting for anyone to wear.

Ever since I had been able to crawl, she had taken to placing me in this play pen of sorts – a miniature fortress decked out with teddy bear sentinels. Crawling in and of itself was one of the happiest moments so far, it was one step closer from escaping powerlessness.

In my honest opinion, Setsuna would have made a brilliant grandmother – she reminded me of my own. Sterling silver hair wrapped in a taut bun, liquid caramel eyes and a perpetually smiling face – she was the very image of grandmother.

You could almost imagine her waiting for you as you went over to her home, the faint scent of warm cookies and milk escaping from an open window, and when she would open the door to let you in it would be with a wide smile and happiness glowing like a bonfire in her eyes.

"_When you grow up, I hope you look just like your mother, but with your father's temperament. The features of an Empress tempered by the compassion that swayed the lady," _here, her smile grew pained, as if saddened, _"I hope you don't forget your dear old Setsuna-baa when you grow up, I can tell right now that you are going to be great."_

Even if it had been a year, I still had yet to truly grasp any substantial knowledge of the language. For all I know, she could be cursing me, but for all it was worth I really hoped she wasn't.

What, I had grown to like Setsuna.

She took the time to read me stories, telling me fantastical adventures of a teen that was on his way to adulthood, going from useless to the centre of the world. She tried to teach me to speak, murmuring old songs in a bid to tell me the colours of the rainbow, and she even showed me here family.

She had kids of her own, but they were far too old now and didn't need her, but she wished her dear old daughter would visit her more – Meioh Nana had eloped with some upstart named Sawada Iemitsu, from what I've gathered of her stories.

"_Your father is coming home soon. He really wants to see you, and he misses you dearly," _Setsuna seemed sad, as if her next words were something that would pain her, "_He also said that I'm no longer needed, that he and your mother will be able to look after you now that you're passed that stage."_

I stilled, pausing momentarily in a particularly riveting game of building blocks, words registering. I didn't know the full gist of it, just that she was going somewhere and that my _tou-san _(the word still seemed alien to me) was coming back.

I didn't want her to go. I didn't like being alone.

When I was alone I was left in the _dark_.

"…_Tsuna?"_ I forced myself to speak, the unfamiliar language putting a large strain on my vocal chords.

The shock on her face made it more than worth it, and the stunning smile on her face only sealed the deal.

"_Did you just say my name?" _Setsuna forced out, still staring at me with shock.

I just repeated her name, over and over and over, until my throat could no longer handle the strain, voice turning rougher and coarser as time went on.

_Damn straight I said your name, granny._

We spent the rest of the day together, playing nonsensical games that I didn't understand but _damn _were they fun to play, and the two of us working on slowly building up my rather pitiful knowledge of the Japanese language.

Day turned to night, and when she tucked me into my cot, whispering a meaningful goodnight, I paid very little notice to the softly spoken 'goodbye', my young body lulled to sleep from a bizarre combination of childish fatigue and adult weariness.

"_The sun may fall, but that doesn't mean it's gone for good."_

With a soft click of a lock, Meioh Setsuna walked out of the room, and unknowingly out of my life for good.

I never did see her again, and it was only years later that I deciphered the old woman's parting message.

* * *

When I was two, my parents thought that it would be a good idea to move onto potty training.

I agreed, anything to get away from _nappies _– the disgusting things that they were.

I just didn't anticipate just how hard such a thing would be. The hot pink facsimile of the porcelain throne sat innocuously in the corner of the room, my _bedroom (_a sterile expanse with little customization other than one small, barely noticeable picture of _tou-san)_,tempting me to use it, to abandon the, quite frankly, _itchy _training pants that I'm forced into wearing.

It was taunting me, looking for the entire world smug, and I hated its existence.

I wanted to set fire to the thing.

_Okay, deep breaths, you can do this._

Hesitant, I slowly meandered towards the terrifying object, cautious. The closer I got, the more terrifying it became, and the more I wanted desperately to turn back, to go back to the safety and security of nappies, no matter how much I hated their existence.

_I'm a strong, confident man-baby-girl who shouldn't be afraid of anything. Especially not small, pink menaces who will soon be acquainted with my ass._

Determined, I slowly approached the death trap, looking for all the world that I'm about to enter a warzone, feet treading plush carpet as I approached.

_Let's do this._

Tugging the tight elastic around my pants, I let them drop.

_Abort mission abort mission may day may day how do I even use this thing?_

Quickly pulling the infernal things back up, I ran back to safety. Away from the false toilet.

_How do girls even use these things anyway?_ _Do they lean backwards to aim it properly? Or do they sit down? _

With nappies all you really did was sit down, or, well, stand up and it just sort of happened. You didn't really have to think about it, and I had made it a point to stay as far away as possible from that train of thought. Granted, you were then left marinating in the turd, but damn if I hadn't appreciated the fact that I didn't have to think.

With all the finesse my toddler self could muster, I turned back to the horrible being in the corner, eying it pensively.

I was half tempted to just retreat, come back to it another day. I was half tempted to stay as far away as possible from any and all potties and live the rest of the life in adult nappies. I was half tempted to just pretend.

_Pretend that I'm still male, hmm. But how long does one have to pretend for it to become blindingly obvious that it's all make believe?_

That wasn't an idea that I couldn't, even for a few moments, entertain.

My tou-san sat nearby, hovering like a mother hen, gazing at me with concern.

I ignored him. This was something that I had to do myself.

Over the year since Setsuna's disappearance, I had grown close to him. He just had that sort of an effect - a bit like a chocolate bar. No matter how much you know you shouldn't have it, that it's bad for you and one is more than enough, you have it anyway. He was all brown eyes and black hair and handsome features, and I liked him.

"You can do it," he smiled encouragingly, gesturing madly with the cheesiest grin he could muster. I couldn't help the short bark of a laugh that escaped me, despite the situation.

_Damn straight I can do it._

Invigorated despite myself, the trek back seemed much easier than before, words of encouragement from the peanut gallery making the difficulty die.

And then I let go, even if I myself don't know what I had let escape.

The beaming smile hid the fact that I felt something inside me wither and die. But my father's happiness made it all better.

"Look how happy you made your tou-san," Tou-san looked like an excited puppy, ecstatic about something that was so _trivial._

"Puppy-tou is very happy," I cried, reaching up to him.

"Puppy?" _Tou-san's _confusion only made him look more like a puppy than he did before.

"Yup. Puppy is papa." For all that I hated the way I speak; I made it my mission to keep him smiling. And if I had to speak for him than I'll do just that.

Ever since, I have never worn nappies.

* * *

I was three when I learnt the name of my mother.

I was three when my father died, and my mother took full control over my upbringing.

My world shattered, and I fell.

He was everything to me; the only one who managed to fill the void after Setsuna was _forced _out. He sat with me, played with me, asked endlessly to call him '_papa' _and to let him shelter me from the world. He was the only person who I felt I could _love _here, who I felt loved me, and when he died I felt a little piece of me melt with him, erupt into flames, the ashes lost forever.

He died in a car accident.

I didn't want him to go.

I wanted him to stay with me forever.

That was when the hallucinations started.

I started to see him everywhere. I saw him beside me whilst I ate, smiling that little smile of his as he urged me on. I saw him as I played, he building glass castles that would crack more and more the higher he built them. I saw him as I tried to sleep, the same stories on repeat over and over and _over, _day after day.

_Indigo flames glowing in his eyes each and every time._

Soon after they started, I started to lose sleep, my sanity, and even myself. I was haunted, and for the first time I knew what it was like to lose someone close to me – I had already known that my future was death, during my time as David, so losing someone close to myself…

I didn't have any way of coping.

I wondered to myself if this was what my family felt when I was diagnosed with cancer. The presence of death was a promise of goodbye.

As my mother said to me before I passed away, a husk of my former self, I said to my _tou-san._

_Goodbye._

The hallucinations stopped, and I felt like I could smile again.

And I smiled, and smiled, until the smile looked less like a broken shard and more like a beaming sun.

_I wonder, does my smile reach my eyes?_

When, a mere month later, _Nadeshiko Sakura_ (my _kaa-san) _re-married, instead becoming _Kirijo Sakura, _I smiled the broken smile that I practiced all by myself and said that I was happy to get a new _papa._

And when she showered praises on her beautiful little _daughter, _and this stranger complimented me on how pretty his little _princess _was, I ignored the guilt festering in my chest, the overwhelming sense that I was betraying his memory, and wondered just where I fit.

It only took a few weeks for _Nadeshiko Hidetoshi _to be forgotten by the residents of the house, and sometimes I'm left wondering if he even existed at all, if _kaa-san _had ever loved him at all.

Only the gossip of the maids kept his memory fresh, my toddler brain trying desperately to banish the memories even as my adult mind tried to hold on to them.

_I wonder if he's found himself at that place? _

Maybe, one day, if I'm lucky enough, I'll get to see him again.

Maybe I'll get to tell him goodbye properly.

* * *

I was four now, and it had been a year since my _tou-san's _death.

Ever since then, I had taken to collecting teddies. Dog teddies. Sakura-san didn't understand, _couldn't _understand, why I always wanted _little doggies _as gifts each and every time, but she didn't care why. For all it was to her was another one of her daughter's eccentricities – and it made the whole gift giving thing a lot easier if she always wanted the same thing, and all _Kirijo-san _could do was try and tide over his new child.

_Kirijo _Natsu was a good man, or as good a man that he could be, considering the circumstances. He always tried to befriend me, even if his _particular _brand of making friends wasn't the greatest in the world. The man had taken to showering me with gifts, ranging from inexpensive to bank-breaking, and my room looked more like a _dog shelter _than an actual little girl's room.

The once dry room had bloomed, blossomed out of that sterile bud into a vivid flower.

The white walls still remained, though they looked warmer now, more of a vanilla than the blinding white of before - it looked less like the dead now. My cot had long since been replaced, a comfortable single covered in a doggy duvet, and as far as the eye could see were dog teddies. On the desk was a Labrador. A sheepdog on the windowsill. A puppy in the closet.

It looked a lot less like a cell, and instead more of a bedroom.

A few sparse picture frames, rather empty photo frames, were interspersed throughout the room – eyes of a stranger constantly lingering. A similarly empty photo album sat on the mahogany coffee table, waiting for me to fill it with images, with memories, filled only with what little pictures I could find of my _tou-san._

I never wanted to forget the rather profound effect he had on my life, nor the man himself. After Setsuna, he was the only one who I truly knew around here.

Kirijo Sakura was a stranger posing as a mother, her work deemed much more important than her family. The only contact I had with her was to oversee my education – I was supposed to take over the family business, make the _Kirijo Corporation_ great, and for that I needed to know all the skills. Ever since I had been left in her care, I was grilled in politics: on how to act, on who to know, how to scout out the competition.

The only reason that I could even cope was the fact that I was, mentally, over twenty.

She straightened out my speech, and whilst it was still iffy, I could hold a conversation without my voice failing me. Speaking still hurt, a dull ache in my throat, and I tried to avoid speaking more than I had to, but I could cope.

The doctors said that it would pass with age, and I believed them. Speaking used to be much harder than it was now, and I could faintly recall the garbled rubbish I spouted to Setsuna – a bastardization of her name that I was _damn _proud to be able to say, after my previous inability to speak.

"Nagi," blinking, I couldn't help but find it odd that the woman would actively search me out outside of the forced lessons.

"Yes, _kaa-san?" _Sakura's imperious stare was starting to get on my nerves.

"Your _tou-san _and I believe that it is time for you to go to school," dry, voice concealing her real emotions, the matriarch of the family continued on, "and despite my best efforts, my husband has decided to allow you the choice of where to go."

_Oh lord, school. How did I forget about that? I refuse to set foot into a place where kids posher than my mother go to. I'd rather not spend my youth surrounded by brats who could make the Queen green with envy._

It only registered that I had a choice after my miniature breakdown.

"I have a choice?" I echoed, ignoring the glare Sakura threw at me in response.

"_Kirijos _don't repeat themselves, so make your choice. It could be any, but Midori has a particularly _scintillating _set of _recreational c_ourses for people like us, so we don't have to mingle with the commoners," the caustic disgust in her voice would have been enough to melt diamonds.

"Any choice, huh?"

_I wonder, what's the most common place I can think of…._

"Where did my _tou-san _go?" I hurriedly continued before she could interrupt, "My real father, not _Kirijo-san."_

"_Kirijo-san _was as much your father as Hidetoshi-san was, and if you must know," her expression suddenly turned grave, as if she knew that she would regret her next words, "my late husband went to a _despicably _common institute, known as _Namimori Primary, _nothing like the completely respectable _Midori Institute for the Young and Gifted._"

I held back on the scathing remarks, if only to make things easier.

"I don't suppose that this Namimori Primary is an option, is it?" I restrained the urge to cackle madly, whilst stroking a cat in a swivel chair. My so-called mother's pretty features looked scrunched up, as if she was constipated.

"If you must, then I won't stop you."

_Nailed it._

* * *

"No."

The handmaid glared.

I glared back.

"What d'ya mean no? Kirijo-sama paid good money for this dress, and he expects you to wear it."

"Yes, well, Kirijo-san should pick out better dresses. If I wanted to go out there on my first day looking like I've been thrown up by Barney, then I'd wear the dress. But quite frankly, I find it disturbing that he even managed to find a pair of _matching heels._"

_Why did it always come back to pink?_

"You're wearing it. It brings out your pretty sapphire eyes."

_I'll yank yours out if you don't show me a decent pair of pants, and preferably a T-shirt that wasn't asking me to torn apart out there._

"I'm sorry; do you want me to be ripped to shreds out there? Those kids are vicious. Monsters. They prey on you, waiting for the right moment to strike, and then they shred you to small, itty-bitty pieces."

"And your parents will rip me to shreds if you don't wear it. So put the thing on."

"And I'll tear you to shreds if you make me wear it."

Five minutes later I was decked out in a rather casual set of clothes, looking like the cat that caught the canary.

* * *

It didn't take me long to regret all my life choices leading up to this event.

"Hi, my name is Yamamoto Takeshi and I want to be a baseball player what's your name?"

I grunted, not even looking at the brat.

"Hi, my name is Yamamoto Takeshi and I want to be a baseball player what's your name?"

I grunted again, louder this time.

"Hi, my name is Yamamoto Takeshi and I want to be a baseball player what's your name?"

Contemplating murder, I finally turned to the midget, eager to tell him to bog off. With a (hopefully) threatening glare, I wasn't about to put up with him being his annoying self, and I wasn't going to sit around and just listen to the same thing in a loop.

"Hi, my name is Yamamoto Takeshi and I want to be a base-"

"I gathered that."

_How on Earth are you supposed to get rid of little brats? Do you just sort of acknowledge them until they go away?_

Still glaring, I was prepared for him to run away.

I wasn't prepared for him to just sit there, staring at me with that dopey look on his face.

If I wasn't so annoyed, I would have called him cute. He was certainly a sunny boy, all smiles and laughter, and I had to kill the urge to squee at his cute features. Yamamoto looked absolutely _adorable,_ and loathe as I was to admit it I was jealous of him.

"Who are you?"

"If I tell you will you leave me alone, preferably for the rest of your life?"

"What does preferably mean?"

"…Why are you still here?"

"You looked lonely, and tou-san said to never leave a pretty girl looking lonely."

A sigh, "I'm hardly pretty,"

And I wasn't, not in the sense that I judged prettiness. I tried to stay away from all that – I kept my hair short, I refused to touch anything with bows and there was no way in Hell that I would even think about wearing pink.

_I may be a little girl but I was still a man! _

Yamamoto-san must be blind.

"Yes you are. See, you have pink shoes," he nodded, a proud expression on his face, and if I was an onlooker I would have thought that he cracked the Divinci Code, "Papa says that pink equals pretty things, so you must be pretty."

_Oh right. Them. _

I may have been able to escape the dress, but the pink shoe were another thing entirely. The maid was far too adamant about those cursed things.

"Nadeshiko Nagi," maybe if I was lucky he would go away now, now that I've indulged him.

"Huh," if it was possible he became even cuter. It was disgusting.

"My name. You wanted it, didn't you?" four year olds aren't meant to be this stubborn, there supposed to get bored and return to whatever swamp spawned them after a while.

"Wanna play baseball?"

"…you aren't gonna leave me alone, are you? You'll just end up annoying me until I say yes." Takeshi just smiled again, that cheesy grin, and it painfully reminded me of someone else. With a roll of my eyes, I stood, staring down dispassionately at the vibrant face below. "You're going to have to teach me how to play, never played a game before in my life."

With an ecstatic cry, he dragged me off to the makeshift pitch him and his friends had set up, crowing something about batting averages and spouting gospel about some random American who'd made it big there.

I didn't really care. All I got out of that particular game was quite a few scrapes when a rather pathetic gremlin threw the ball a bit too hard, and just a tad off, knocking me off my feet.

I got my revenge though. The bat somehow manage to slip out of my hand as I swung, smacking the brat in the head.

It isn't called being vindictive.

It's called being 'selectively forgiving'.

And I was _very _good at that_._

* * *

_**Chapter 2, Fin~**  
_

_**Oh wow, this chapter feels incomplete. For some reason I just don't feel happy with this chapter. If you have any suggestions on what to add, send me a PM and I'll get to work.**_

_**If you want to see the argument that I was planning to have the two have, just mention it in either a PM or the review and I'll tack it on in an omake to the next chapter.**_

_**And a question has been asked that I felt is necessary for everyone to know. Chrome/DAvid will have the Mist flame, not the Sun flame. Just thought I would toss that out there.**_

_**And OMG 4 Reviews/13 Favs/11 Follows thank you so much~ And I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**_

_**Until Next Time,**_

_**Signed, HalcyonNight~ **_


	3. Growth: Gamma

**Disclaimer: I don't own KHR. Woo.**

**Also, this chapter was written whilst I was juggling with being slightly under the weather and being half asleep. Woo. If there are any mistakes, could you please contact me so that I could change them immediately? Thank you :D**

**NOTICE: I have no plans for pairings, as of yet. But if you want a specific pairing in the future, just send me a PM stating what pairing, or even a PM saying NO Pairings. Note that I mean pairings overall, not just with the OC, so it could be Main Cast x Main Cast.**

**Anyway, thank you for the continuing support, and HOLY DATS A LOT OF FAVES/FOLLOWS: 26 Faves/27 Follows (And there is a community in there too~), and special thanks to the reviewers (Eovin, Dustflame and TLB). I appreciate all the support you guys give.**

**Regardless, on with the story, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

It was an average morning in the Kirijo household, all things considered.

My mother was as overbearing as ever, Kirijo-san was just as overbearing if not more so, and the maids were all aflutter, as if they were waiting for a massive argument to break out.

For the moment, I was sat at the dining table, picking at my food. Kirijo-san was staring at me oddly, and Sakura-san was scrutinising me – so much so that it was starting to become awkward.

"As you are attending _that_ school, you're education will not be up to the standard that is expected," daintily, Sakura raised a clump of rice to her mouth, using the chopsticks like a pro, "as such, I have acquired tutors to fill in the _chasms _that would undoubtedly be left in your knowledge."

I ignored her, still to this day struggling with chopsticks.

"There will be a ballet teacher coming later to get you started on dance."

I politely excused myself, pretending as if I hadn't heard that.

No way in _Hell _would I be taking ballet lessons.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it hadn't taken long for me to get bored of Namimori Primary. It wasn't _exactly _the pinnacle of entertainment, after all, and it was sad that I found myself longing for the private lessons that I used to be forced into.

The teachers were, well, boring and two-dimensional. You know that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong when the teachers spent more time reading then engaging the class.

Maybe, just maybe, it would have been a good idea to take my Kaa-san's suggestion more seriously?

…_Nah. If I went there I would probably be made into a clone of her._

It's a sad day when the highlight of your time there was drawing doodles on a scrap of paper to place at the front of your desk, just to tell the rest of the frog spawn what your name was. Said frog spawn were acting a bit more accommodating now that Yamamoto hovered around me, but they still spent more time away from me than actively talking to me. Not that it was a bad thing, no, but it still felt odd to be stared at with bug-eyes.

I've been here for a month, and it's mostly just been the same thing. I would get up, slip on whatever death trap my _parents _deemed appropriate (today I was in a floral sundress that made me look like someone mugged a bride and stapled the bouquet to the front), and then endure another rant from mother dearest about commoners and how I shouldn't talk to them more than necessary. Then I would be escorted to the building by a maid, of course - my kaa-san would have a heart attack if she even looked at the building.

But today there was something_ off_.

The kids were acting shifty.

They were acting much more _excitable _today, as if they were waiting for something to happen. The boys were a jittery bunch, whilst the girls were whispering between one another, as if there was some great secret that I wasn't privy too. Unsurprisingly, the only one left unaffected was Yamamoto, and to be honest I don't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Nagi-chan, what are ya thinking about?"

_Bloody 'ell he's a ninja!_

"Yamamoto-san," hand on chest, I tried to get my breathing back on track before replying, "Please at least warn me you're coming. Don't just pop out of nowhere like a midget ninja."

He also smelled. A lot

"Yamamoto, go away, you smell," I all but snarled, wincing as the brat invaded my personal space, cloaked in the smell of sweaty child.

Not a brand of perfume I would want anything to do with, _eau de sweat. _Something tells me thatit would _really_ fly off the shelves.

"Aww, Nagi-chan, don't be like that," Yamamoto didn't even look fazed, omnipresent grin splitting his face like a rather demented clown, "I was only coming to check on you."

I twitched, half in annoyance, half in guilt, and grudgingly accepted the fact that he was here. I had honestly tried everything to get him to stay away from me, from scathing threats to even telling him I had cooties. It, sadly, didn't work. He just shrugged it off and said something about 'the all-powerful baseball gods cleansing my body of such things', and that as such he would remain pure.

He really was a strange kid.

"Check on me? Did you're little group think I was plotting diabolical plots in the name of the devil again?" I drawled, and I really shouldn't have been surprised by the lack of understanding on the other side.

"No…well, at least, I don't think you're plotting again," Yamamoto frowned, as if something monumental had just occurred to him, "You aren't plotting again are you? I had to convince Miyamoto-kun that you hadn't meant to smack him in the face with the baseball bat."

_Miyamoto was his name? _

"I did apologise to Miyamoto-san, didn't I?" I tried my best to remember that incident, and whether or not I did apologise to him, before I came up blank.

His disapproving stare was all I needed to see before I knew that, 'A', I hadn't apologised and that, 'B', I had positively _cackled _at his tears. Mentally, of course, otherwise _kaa-san _would have had my head if word ever got back to her. When I think about it, I relied on Yamamoto quite a bit to ensure that the kids don't see me as some form of social pariah, and didn't that make me feel half guilty about associating with him?

"So, what is it that you need?" I watched in awe as his entire countenance shifted, from stern disapproval to the light ball of fluff he was before, "There must have been something on your mind to come all this way to see me, instead of playing with your baseball friends like you easily do."

"They didn't have the card I was looking for, and…" here he paused, brow furrowed, as he rifled through his pockets, "…I want to give you this."

With a grin that could blind the sun, he handed me a small baby-blue envelope, monochrome baseball stickers slapped haphazardly across the aqua expanse. That name stared back, the well-known kanji of '_Nadeshiko Nagi' _staring at me in rough flicks, telling me immediately that Yamamoto had coughed up this particular invitation himself. Hands shaking, I gently flipped the lip of the envelope over, pulling out the card inside with ease.

"Is this what I think it is?" I just stared at the card in my hand.

Much like the exterior, the card itself was baseball-themed, figures of baseball fame running across a pitch, anime-styled characters batting and running and catching. Opening the card there was an invitation, the unsteady hand of Yamamoto inviting me to his birthday party, telling me all the information that I could ever want or need.

"Yup. You look like someone who would need a written invitation, so I got my tou-san to help me write it out," he laughed, light blush staining his cheeks, "Tou-san was acting weird though, he had this weird grin on his face when he found out."

"I'm impressed that you went to such effort, we haven't really started writing," and it was true, we haven't, and the only reason I even had a slight clue as to what it said was because of the lessons that I had been forced into, "I have a question though, why invite me? We've only known each other for a few weeks."

"I invite all my friends over."

"…Friends, huh?" I leaned back, head resting comfortably against the wooden slats of the old bench I had commandeered as my perch during the lunch breaks. Yamamoto's eyes were resting on me, as if he was waiting for me to say something. "What, I don't have something on my face do I?" Self-conscious, I couldn't help but to touch myself, feeling for any imperfections.

"Aren't you gonna ask what I want?"

_Bit forward._

"What makes you think I was going anyway?" I deadpanned, "I might not be able to make it there, so don't get your hopes up."

"…Why wouldn't you go?" Yamamoto looked as though the thought had never occurred to him.

I could think of plenty of reasons. It would take far too much work to convince my parents that going to a lowly 'commoners' party was a good idea. It would be painful trying to get a gift for a kid who was 24 years my junior. I would be surrounded by a load of kids for who knows how long, with no way of politely excusing myself from there less than innocent questions.

"I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?" I muttered under my breath. If he wanted me to go to his birthday, then sooner or later I'll be forced there. It was just a case of whether it would be accompanied by a happy-go-lucky smile, or with a stern frown that wold make even the most stalwart flee in fear.

I had learned that Takeshi Yamamoto was a frightening child.

"So, Yamamoto, 'what do you want for your birthday'?" I even threw in a couple of air quotes for emphasis.

"Hmm," here he frowned, as if he didn't even know himself, "just get me whatever you want. But don't get anything western, my tou-san doesn't like it for some reason."

I face-palmed. _Hard._

"It's Saturday, you said?" I may not have been a genius, but I knew that I was being backed up into a corner, by a _child _of all things.

"I'll be there. Now run back to your friends and play your baseball." I didn't even need to shoo him off, he was gone as soon as I had confirmed that I was going to his little birthday bash.

The wooden slats creaked, and he had already returned to the other boys, who were eying him with a mixture of awe and wonder.

I was left alone, once again, just how I like it.

My hand twitched, fiddling with the invitation that lay on my lap, used to Yamamoto's behaviour. He always did this, running in and disturbing the peace, and then he would have a short conversation that would lead to me being forced to talk. Then he would run back to playing his games with the others. He was mercurial, coming and going like the rain, and I knew him only a tad bit more than I did the rest of the class.

Yamamoto would grow up to become a social butterfly, friends to many but known to few.

Suffice to say, I was slightly confused by this invitation.

I was tempted to go just so that I could see why I was invited. Though it was sweet that he wrote up the invitation himself, I would give him that.

The wooden bench creaked once more, lighter than when Yamamoto had invaded.

Tired, I lifted my head off the slats, throwing a glance at the newcomer. I scanned her form: average height, brunette hair, russet eyes. She was the poster girl for the mundane.

I wrote her of as unimportant immediately, closing my eyes once more.

"Nadeshiko Nagi, correct?" Cultured, I was surprised that a child was able to speak my name so fluently.

"You have me at a disadvantage…" I trailed off, staring at her imploringly.

"Kurokawa Hana," the newly named Hana informed with her eyes dull and bored, "you look like less of a monkey than the rest of them."

"Less implies that I was one to begin with," I retorted.

"Touché," Hana muttered, and I don't know whether she approved or disapproved, or why I even cared, "The only reason why I came over was to invite you over."

The shock must have been evident on my face, because she just smirked, gesturing behind her with a light sweep of her hand, somehow managing to look both bored and victorious at the same time.

_I'm actually impressed that a 4 year old managed that._

Behind us, sitting quietly on a small patch of grass, was a young girl. Small, she was playing around with the Dandelions, auburn pigtails hiding her face as she hummed a small tune to herself.

I was slightly stunned that I hadn't noticed her, noticed _either _of them.

"Come join us," not waiting for a reply, she stood, as if expecting me to follow, "You look interesting."

"If I must." I stood, following the imperious child's lead, wondering for the life of me why I agreed in the first place. She clearly wanted something, and I'm not oblivious enough to just pass it off as a coincidence.

The two made their lair close to the bench, so it wasn't as if I had to travel far and wide in order to get there. Oddly enough, there wasn't anyone else around – the kids must obviously not frequent this area. There were only a few stragglers wandering about, no-one that I honestly cared for, and my respect for Hana's choice of location increased.

"Ahh, Hana-chan, I didn't really expect you back this quickly," the other half of the duo said, her caramel eyes twinkling in happiness, "my name is Sasagawa Kyoko, nice to meet you Nagi-chan."

"She isn't an Oni," was all Hana responded with, eyebrow quirked, as if challenging Kyoko to say otherwise.

"I know, but still," Kyoko giggled, small smile on her face, "You aren't the nicest person ever."

"I don't play around with monkeys." Hana was calm and relaxed, despite how pointed her voice sounded.

I just watched them, feeling awkward. They had obviously known each other for a long time, had gotten used to interacting with the other, and I fully felt as if I was the third wheel. They bickered back and forth, one sharp and no-nonsense whilst the other full of life. They were polar opposites, and it was somewhat ironic that they found their way to each other.

_Maybe there is some merit to the whole 'opposites attract' thing after all?_

"So, Nagi-chan, what do you like to do in your spare time?" Kyoko turned to me, ever-present smile staining her face.

Unprepared, I floundered for a bit, raking my brain for an answer. Just what did I do in my spare time?

I didn't read much, well, much outside of what I was forced into reading. I didn't sing, no matter how much my kaa-san wanted me to follow the more feminine arts. My art was sub-par, my stick figures resembling stick abominations more than anything.

I don't have much to say for myself in terms of hobbies.

"I... don't really do much." I admitted, slightly embarrassed.

"Are you sure you do nothing?" Hana seemed slightly shocked, her paper thin mask crumbling slightly, as if she expected me to rattle of a list of extra-curricular activities.

Fists clenched, I fell back onto the grass, staring at the sky in consternation. Was it really so important for me to be doing something in my spare time?

_What a sad life I lead, huh? _

"Do you follow sport?" Hana interjected, nonplussed by the slightly awkward atmosphere.

"What makes you think I follow sport?" I responded, legitimately confused.

"You sometimes play baseball with the monkeys, and you smile whilst doing it," said Hana.

_Are you sure you aren't getting 'smile' mixed up with 'grimace of pain and despair'?_

"I doubt my _Kaa-san _would appreciate it if I told her that I enjoyed sports, so no, I don't follow sport." I stressed 'kaa-san' like it was an insult.

"So…you don't really do anything?" Kyoko actually looked like she felt sorry for me, and didn't that make me feel _special. _I, someone who was mentally 28, was being pitied by someone who couldn't even read properly yet.

Absurdity at its finest.

"…You have a boring life." I winced at how blunt Hana was.

"Thanks, a gu-girl really needs to hear that in her life." If either of them noticed my slip-up then they didn't comment on it, instead having a private conversation between themselves.

"Nagi-chan," Kyoko's tone spelled trouble for me, and with trepidation I replied 'yes', planning to run for the hills when the fallout becomes nuclear, "you aren't very girly, you know that?"

_Yes, Kyoko-san, I knew that perfectly well – so much so that it might be done on purpose._

"I don't claim to be the epitome of femininity, nor would I want to be." Realising what I just said, I quickly rephrased it so that they could understand, "I'm not a girly girl."

_Nor a manbaby of many words, it seems._

I was saved from whatever response the girl brigade had in store for me by the sounds of the bell, declaring that lunch was over and lesson time was starting.

I ran, and didn't look back; Yamamoto's invitation clung tightly in hand.

* * *

_Guess like I'll be doing Ballet after all._

"What was that, _dear, _for a second there I thought I heard you say no?" My mother's saccharine tone burned my ears, and only my hatred for her kept me from wincing.

Discretion was, after all, the better part of valour, and I held my tongue. I may be disgusted but it wasn't worth arguing over. Over the years I had learnt that in this household, explosive arguments only lead to _pain_.

"If I take these Ballet lessons, then I get to go to the party correct," I carefully enunciated, trying and failing to school my expression into something that resembled neutral.

_It's nothing but ballet. You can do this._

"You do well in this lesson, and in all future lessons, then you can go to that _Yamamoto _child's birthday party," she spat the name 'Yamamoto' as if it was physically painful to say.

"…okay." I mumbled quietly, butterflies flying in my stomach.

"What was that?" Sakura's glare held the intensity to melt stone.

"I will do as you say, Kaa-san." I forced out, trying to stop my voice quivering.

"Good, I expect good things from you," with a slight incline of her head, my stone-faced mother left the room.

_If only I had been born a boy._

It hasn't been the first time that I thought that, sadly enough. Taking a glance around the room, I committed to memory the dance hall. The laminated floor, the high roof, the large window that overlooked the courtyard – I was honestly surprised that I had never before seen this room before. However, the mansion itself was large and expansive, and there were sections that were blocked off from me, my mother deeming it 'forbidden' until I was 'ready', whatever that means.

A small, muted conversation took place outside the door, before abruptly cutting off, the heavy clacks of my kaa-san's high heels signalling her escape. The double doors creaked open, and in walked a figure that just _screamed_ self-confidence.

"So you're the munchkin I have to teach," her voice was light, teasing, "Sakura-sama has hired me to teach you how to dance."

"Pardon me but you're not exactly dressed to fit the occasion," shrewd, I took in her features.

Clad in high heels, my ballet instructor looked less of a ballet dancer and more like a femme fatale. Her hair cut into a stylish bob, bangs swept to one side, it only made her grey eyes look more mysterious. To top the outfit off, she wore a pair of worn jeans and a crimson jacket, all in all making her look like a woman on a mission.

"No ballet shoes, or sparkling tutu, one would wonder if you really are my instructor as you say you are." I continued, my impromptu analysis over.

Suffice to say I was feeling slightly annoyed at being called a _munchkin._

"I'm a teacher, not a performer. If anyone will be wearing any of that then it will be you little miss sparkles."

_In a zombie apocalypse I would leave you to die._

"I don't suppose that you'll be able to lie to Sakura-san when you tell her that I did well, huh?" Morose, I didn't need to see her face to know that it was a fool's dream.

"With an attitude like that, it leaves me wondering why you want these lessons in the first place," that damnable smirk had yet to leave her face, "Sakura-sama was just telling me that you were positively _ecstatic _about learning to dance."

"Hardly." My rough bark of a laugh surprised even me.

"Oh? Care to share with the rest of the class?" She asked, though something told me that she already had all the answers.

"My _kaa-san_ is a foolish woman who spends more time with her work than with her child; I hardly see how she could proclaim to know anything about me," I was a bitter child, and I would be the first to tell you that.

"So I take it then that you aren't exactly happy about this whole performance then," I just nodded in response to her question, seeing that there was hardly any need to say more.

"Do I really need to say anything?" I muttered, uncomfortable with the contemplative expression on her face.

"No, I don't suppose you do… regardless, I should introduce myself," the look vanished as quickly as it appeared, "my name is Takeba Yuki, and I'll be both your teacher in all things dance related and your personal _helper."_

_My personal helper?_

"My…personal helper? I think I can get myself dressed in the morning thank you very much," I hardly needed this _Yuki _hovering around me as I tried to force myself through the day.

"Sakura-sama follows old traditions. I was hired to be everything you could ever possibly need."

That explanation was as _bullshit _as her being here, but I couldn't exactly call her out on it.

"Whilst sitting here and chatting is just glorious, I think I need to teach you how to dance," her smile turned diabolical, "life your leg up."

"Pardon me," I lifted my leg up anyway, "but how is this teaching me how to dance."

"Ballet dancers have to be nimble and flexible, so I'm running you through some dexterity exercises," she said in explanation.

"So when will I start actually dancing?" I asked, half hoping that it would be far, _far _in the future yet half hoping it was soon to get it over and done with.

"You'll start when I'll tell you to start."

_Fair enough, I suppose._

The rest of the session was done in comparable silence, a few barbs thrown here and there to lighten the mood, and strangely enough I found myself liking Yuki, strange as that sounds. She just had that sort of effect, even if she never smiled but smirked and never laughed but chuckled.

She was an enigma, and I love enigmas.

* * *

_Rebecca Black knew what was up when she said we so excited for Saturday._

The day had arrived, and I was up at the crack of dawn.

"Yuki, I need your help," voice grave, I flittered around the room, my bare feet treading expensive carpet.

It had been a few days since we first met, and she was just as infuriating as ever. Why she was working as my 'helper' instead of doing something much more worthwhile was beyond me, but all she ever said to me was that the pay was good. For every question she tossed at me, she had a response already in her head – she was forever one step ahead of me, and I hated it.

"I've never seen you this worked before, normally you're a _caustic _ice princess," I may not have been able to understand most of the words (_Tsuretsu* _had yet to be covered) but I could understand the gist of it.

"Shut up, Yuki, I don't pay you to run your mouth." I scowled, already predicting that the beauty had a retort on the tip of her tongue. She was cool like that.

"You don't pay me at all, your father does," her infuriating smirk remained, taunting me, "so what is it you need help with, you've got a boyfriend you need to impress."

"I'm sorry, but I'm four. The chances of me being interested in a boy are about as likely as you ever giving me a straight answer," the amount of lies that she has spouted were unbelievable, and I've learned to take everything that she says with a grain of salt.

"So what is it that you need help with?" Yuki finally asked.

"I need something to wear to go to this birthday party. I'll most likely meet Yamamoto-san's parents later, so I need to make a good first impression," as an afterthought I gestured to the wrapped up blue box sitting innocently on the side, "and before you say anything I've got a present. It's not as if it's hard to get a baseball fanatic a gift."

"So you actually made friends?" Yuki was at the closet in a flash, staring at the multitude of dresses that had been forced on me in Kirijo-san's attempts to curry my favour.

"I wouldn't really call us friends. More like slightly friendly acquaintances." I muttered, incensed. I knew enough about four year olds (or rather 5 year olds) that they would just as quickly forget about you if you disappear.

"That's good." The certainty that she said that with was slightly shocking.

"Good? I would have thought you would have been screaming at me to make friends, the rest of the maids have been doing so." I sat on the plush carpet, fiddling with a doggy-themed photo album.

"Friendships are good and all, but don't forget that next year, you may not even return to Namimori," absentmindedly, she delivered the news whilst juggling two dresses.

"Pardon? What do you mean I might not return?" I asked, startled.

"Sakura-sama still wants you to go to that other school," Yuki answered, eyes on the two dresses she picked out, mentally comparing the two for the event.

"She gave me the choice, and I made my decision. There isn't really much that she can do, since I've settled on Namimori." I landed on, resolute in my choice, "How do you know that she still wants me to go Midori, anyway?"

"She doesn't keep it quiet," she answered smoothly, far too smoothly, as if she had rehearsed the answer, "So just keep yourself aware, okay, you and your mother are alike in more ways in one."

"I'll be fine," I dismissed her concern, seeing it as unfounded.

"For the both of us, just be careful," I just shrugged, once more, and with a sigh Yuki continued, "wear the pink dress."

Curiosity piqued, I eyed whatever monstrosity she had decided on, pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as bad as I feared. It may have been pink, but it actually wasn't too bad. There wasn't any glitter, or crazy flower designs, and it didn't look like as if I had just raided Staples and stuck all the arts and crafts section on to it.

"Does it have to be pink though," I groaned, not exactly enthused by the colour of choice.

"He did say he liked you in pink, right?"

"I'm honestly surprised that you of all people listened," I commented, staring at her in suspicion.

"That hurt, hurt deep. Can't you see my tears of sorrow?"

"Yuki, you're _smirking."_

"Semantics hardly matter."

"They really do."

"…What time are you supposed to be there for?" Her eyes were locked on the clock, brows furrowed.

"He wants me there for 12, why?"

"You should get going then, its nearly eleven now," my eyes shot to the clock on the wall, "I've got my lunch free today, want me to drive you there?"

"Yuki, you are an absolute life saver." I flew to my feet, following the lead of the onyx-haired beauty.

I threw on the dress, snagged the gift from the side and swiftly made my way outside.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you manage to get Sakura-sama to allow you to go? I would have thought she'd kick up a fuss about it." Yuki asked, descending the stairs two at a time as I doggedly followed.

"Why do you think you were employed?" I countered.

"Ballet?" Yuki actually had the gall to laugh. "The reason I was hired was because you wanted to go to a birthday party?"

"…Shut up and let's just go." I barged past her, unbalancing the woman that was swiftly becoming the bane of my new existence, and entered the car.

The journey there was filled with taunts, and insults, and raucous laughter, but I was happy.

* * *

Takesushi really was a quaint little shop, somehow managing to retain an aura of traditionalism despite the rather modern decorations.

"So this is the place, then." Yuki said, staring at the building, stating it rather than asking.

"You're going to pick me up later, aren't you, or are you going to be doing that mysterious stuff you can't tell me about," I flicked an errant strand of hair out of my face, making a mental note to get my hair cut again soon. It was getting long.

"Don't worry about that, just enjoy yourself, you deserve it." With this last declaration, she all but booted me out of the car, handing me the gift and a camera.

"A camera?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yes a camera. That album is empty, so use this opportunity to get more pictures."

"What, you've been looking through my…" Before I could finish she was gone, driving off in her car, leaving me stood like a lemming outside of Takesushi.

_I'll get her back for this later._

I brushed myself off, smoothed out a few creases and fiddled with my hair. I don't know why, but I was nervous, oh so _nervous, _when I knew I shouldn't be. It was only Yamamoto, not exactly someone whom I needed to be nervous around, not like the Queen or anything.

With a sigh, I opened the door.

* * *

**Chapter 3, Fin~**

**WOO CLIFFHANGER 3. Oh yeah, I also decided that by chapter 10 we should be able to get right into the main plot. This Arc is just to build up character, and establish relationships and just get him settled in to life as Nagi. Around that time Puberty begins, nd oh my lord wont that be a pile of laughs.**

**ALSO SUPER IMPORTANT: I need a Beta. For realz. If you are up for it, just tell me in a review/PM and I'll gladly take you up on it. I need someone to bounce ideas off of xD.**

**Anyway, once more, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next chapter will involve super cute moments because it's a birthday party, and they're may even be a little tension and pseudo-angst.**

**So until next time, HalcyonNight~**


	4. Growth: Delta

**_Disclaimer:_****_ OMG I don't own KHR._**

**_Everyone. I just typed 6000 words up in a day so that you don't have to wait any longer for an update. I would have had this up yesterday if my MS Word hadn't self destructed, getting rid of all my progress, but at least it was here now._**

**_And omg thank you guys for showing so much interest in this story :D - 13 Reviews, 39 Favorites and 42 Followers - and I'm grateful for all the support. I really hope you enjoy the story, and if you have any ways that I could improve the story or if there is anything you feel you would want to see in the story itself, just go right ahead and send me a PM or drop me a Review - either way, I'll be sure to get back to you as soon as._**

**_Anyway, all the review replies have been PM'd, so I hope you enjoy this chapter :D_**

* * *

_Something really doesn't feel right, almost as if I've missed something obvious._

It was quiet.

Uncomfortable, I gripped the camera that was hanging from my neck like an anchor.

Yamamoto had explicitly stated in the invitation that the party would take place at his restaurant, just like it has done ever since he could walk, at twelve o'clock. I placed the gift that I carried in with me down on a nearby wooden table, eyes scanning the room, looking for _anything _to show that people were around.

My baby blue shoes _clacked _loudly against the wooden floorboards, shattering the eerie silence. Takesushi, on the inside, was admittedly rather plain. The décor was quiet and old-fashioned, extremely traditional even with the encroaching influence of the West, the walls decorated with pictures and nothing more.

Occupying the entire western expanse was a large counter, with beams jutting up from it and into the ceiling like a stall on an old market. Fine, pristine china was artfully placed along the mahogany expanse, and on the other side was a doorway – presumably the entrance to the family's housing area and kitchens.

And it smelled. Horribly. Sushi may taste okay, but there is only so much you can do when confronted with its absolutely vile smell. I hated, _despised, _the smell of raw fish in my previous-_current _life, and of all the things that I could have had passed on it was that particular trait.

_The world doesn't half in mysterious ways, right?_

With nothing for me to do other than wait for someone to appear, I perched on the edge of a table, legs crossed, allowing my fingers to dance carefully between the trenches dug deep into the table.

_Brilliant hospitality, ten out of ten. Why did I even bother turning up?_

I sighed, pulling my fingers away from their foxtrot to pick myself up a menu, the Restaurants logo imprinted clear as day on the aqua surface, an ivory leaf in the ocean.

_More like the rain._

Idly flipping through the menu, I carefully read the contents, nose scrunching at some of the options. I'm not usually a picky eater, but the thought of eating fish eyes wasn't particularly appetising. Inka was one dish that I could go through my entire life without eating and I could still die happy.

_But you didn't die happy, did you? You died lonely and unfulfilled and without hope._

Mood soured, I told that little voice in my head to shove it where the sun don't shine, the laminated menu crumpling from the pressure of my fist. It wasn't healthy to be developing little voices in your head, especially voices that were antagonistic. It didn't take a therapist to tell you that much; he knew the dark effects of schizophrenia more than anyone, having studied it in depth before being afflicted with cancer.

"What a sad old man I am," I muttered, unable to help the smirk at the thought of how ironic it was. Here he-_she (it was she now and it always will be)_ was, all alone in a restaurant, at a party that really wasn't a party as there was absolutely _no-one there._

"Hello?" I called out questioningly, not really expecting anyone to respond.

I nearly leapt out of my skin when I heard the clashing of pots and pans, heart-racing as a man just barely out of his thirties appeared in the doorway.

_My lord he scared the shit out of me._

I didn't hold back the glare I threw at him, as I tried to send him to the Underworld through sheer force of will.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was gruff, but he sounded so happy - even if he had me at verbal gunpoint.

_He's got the exact same grin as Yamamoto. _

"Ohh," I fumbled through my pockets, patting them furiously as I tried to find the invitation, "I was certain that I brought the thing…"

The chef still held that damnable smile on his face, but he was beginning to look more and more perplexed. Remarkably like a dopey dog, if that makes any sense.

"Aha!" My small hands gripped the invitation, pulling it out of one of the small pockets on my dress, the picture of a baseball pitch a welcome relief. "This told me to be here at twelve, so here I am."

"Twelve?" The chef repeated.

_Yes twelve. Did I stutter?_

Instead of voicing my thoughts out loud, I just nodded in agreement.

"So you're the pretty girl my boy was talking about," his entire face lit up, and if it was possible he perked up even further.

_Wait…my boy? Is he referring to Yamamoto? And why am I getting a bizarre sense of De Ja Vu?_

"Are you Takeshi-san's tou-san?" I forcibly tacked on the honorific at the end, remembering my etiquette lessons.

It was hard not to, with Sakura-san's scathing lecture on when to show respect. If they were elder, show respect. If they were powerful, show respect.

If it was a bloody _mass-murderer_, show respect.

Suffice to say all I got from that was to be respectful to _everything _that walks on two legs, and being respectful means tacking on the right honorifics to people's names – like the chef's son.

_At least I don't have to call someone sama. _

"Yup," he gave the Churchill dog a run for his money with his nod, "that's me."

"I don't suppose you could tell me where everyone is?" I asked, earnest.

I may not want to associate with the gremlins, but my desire to remain punctual outweighed my general dislike for the munchkin brigade.

"They've not arrived yet," Yamamoto's father said, mysterious twinkle in his eye.

I was reminded of a familiar man that haunted my life before, the fatherly twinkle oddly reminiscent of _Puppy-tou._

_But I guess you can say that all adults remind me of him._

"They've not arrived yet!" If he could tell the indignation was forced, he certainly didn't let it show. "So they are late then."

I certainly wouldn't have been a happy camper if everyone turned up late to my birthday party.

"No, you're just really early," he laughed, a full belly laugh, as it was the funniest thing to have ever been said _ever_.

"Pardon? But isn't it twelve now?" My eyes tore themselves away from the man, jumping from wall to wall in search of a clock. "I could have sworn when we left it was eleven…"

"It's just turned eleven now," if it was possible, an exact replica of Takeshi's laugh spilled from his lips, "if anything it's you that is early!"

_What. So I'm early. Just what I needed._

I tapped out a rhythm on the table; the steady beat a quiet comfort as I thought over what to do. What are you supposed to do, just sit around and wait? Do you just patiently wait for the time to come around, or do you leave? Do I make small talk, try and pass the time until the clock rolls round to twelve.

Maintaining a social life was far more effort than I had anticipated.

Why did I think it was a good idea to come here again?

_Oh right, I didn't. I was emotionally blackmailed by a devious brat named Yamamoto, who preyed on my good-will like the little tyrant that he was._

And the worst part about it was that he did the entire thing unknowingly, manipulating me like it was the easiest thing in the world _naturally. _When he was older he was going to become a frightening individual. Or I could just be blowing this completely out of proportion and that he will live a happy life, get married and have kids – the whole 'picket-fence' idea.

I hoped that was what happened. I could even see myself going to a few of his baseball matches, being dragged along under threat of death, that one grumpy old person watching a game with 'those darn kids'.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage, sir," with as much respect as possible, I asked the _still _laughing man (how he pulls it off, I have no clue, but It has gotten to the point where I've learned to just pass it off as a 'Yamamoto' thing) what his name was.

"The name is Tsuyoshi, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi," I had to wonder how it was spelled, in terms of kanji, "but you can call Oji-san."

"…Uncle?" I deadpanned, mentally questioning his sanity, yet unable to shake the feeling that I'm missing something. What I was missing was, fittingly, _unknown_, and it just seemed odd that a stranger (for all I knew of him he was just _Takeshi's _dad, and unless I'm missing something we are in no way related) would just rock up and tell a child to call him uncle.

_I really seem to overthink things a bit too much._

I decided, for the sake of my sanity, to ignore it entirely.

"So what did you get him?" Tsuyoshi was relaxed, hands propped up on the counter, eying the package lying next to me with a speculative eye.

"It's a surprise." I refused to have this discussion with him. He was a grown man; he should be able to control his curiosity for an hour.

I was wrong. So, so wrong.

"Come on, what is it?" Tsuyoshi wheedled, as if asking again and again would make me change my mind.

But then I remembered just whose father this was, and then I realised that there was a very slim chance of him giving up.

"So where is the birthday boy anyway? Surely he must be running around here somewhere?" Changing the subject, I still kept my hand on the carefully wrapped gift – just in case the curious adult tried to pull a fast one.

"He's upstairs, having a small nap," he said this with pride in his voice, "Takeshi-kun was tired after exercising so much, so I'm letting him rest a bit upstairs."

I perked up at this, curious. I knew that Takeshi held an unhealthy interest in Baseball, having sat through bloody _sermons _about the sport, but I didn't think that he actually was exercising for it to.

The dance lessons – which were more like fitness lessons than actual dancing – were enough for me to handle, the stretches and poses were surprisingly difficult to hold for a long time. Especially when there was Yuki's grating voice throwing out insults here and there to purposely rile you up so that you end up messing it up.

Though it was a novel experience being called a lazy frog.

"He really likes Baseball," the words tumbled out of my mouth, more of a statement than anything else. The devotion he showed the sport was admirable – now if only he focused just a _tad _bit more on the sport and less time on invading my personal space. "You really have to wonder why he's so in love with the sport."

"It's Kiyomi's favourite sport," the adult was cheery, happy, but it seemed somewhat strained – as if it was forced, "she got to him before I did."

"Why, what did you want to teach him?" Is it bad that I'm half expecting him to reply with something to do with preparing sushi?

"I wanted to teach him how to use a sword," he said this as if commenting on the weather.

I choked, breaking out into a coughing fit. I find it hard to imagine a child, let alone a child like _Yamamoto, _running around with an incredibly dangerous object like a _sword. _It was completely absurd, the stuff of fiction, and I found it laughable that he would even think about teaching a child how to wield a weapon.

"Then good on her then, I wouldn't let my child near a blade if it was _plastic," _cutting off the reply before it even began, I swiftly changed the subject, "I'm actually curious as to meeting her, she sounds special."

"When she gets out of hospital, I'll make sure to tell her all about you. You should bring your family here and we can all just sit around and talk." Tsuyoshi was manoeuvring the knife like a pro, and the dull thuds of a knife colliding with a wooden cutting board followed his statement.

_How come Yamamoto never told me?_

I couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed, though I could see why he wouldn't tell me. I hadn't been the friendliest towards him, but if I had known I wouldn't have been as harsh with him. It was too late now to make amends, so until she gets better I'll do my best to at least be somewhat pleasant to the midget.

"I don't think my family would be able to come to come here," the urge to laugh was almost overpowering, just the thought of my family dining in a _common _restaurant enough to reduce me to giggles. I could imagine it now: Sakura sitting at the table with a constipated expression, trying to reduce the other customers to ashes with eyes alone whilst Kirijo tries to make small talk but eventually falls flat on his face.

"What are you trying to say?" He didn't look happy, not at all, and it took me a moment to realise that I was starting to annoy him.

_Huh, didn't realise it was possible for a Yamamoto to be angry. I thought they were all walking fluff balls of happiness and glitter. _

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be offensive," I quickly tried to placate the unhappy adult, "it's just that my family…my family aren't the sort of people that you want to meet."

"Why wouldn't I want to meet them?" I was digging my own grave, because that did little to change his demeanour.

"They aren't the nicest people around," I hoped and prayed that I hadn't committed yet another social faux-pas, and that what I had said would be enough of an explanation.

Lucky for me, it was.

The stern countenance faded, replaced instead with a more considering outlook. Yamamoto's father returned to the back-room, leaving me with only a request to get off the table and to sit on a chair, whilst he went to get us both something to drink. Graceless, I all but _flopped _onto the wooden chair, sagging against the seat tiredly.

_What am I going to say now?_

To be honest, I was at a slight loss for words. When I first came to Takesushi, I hadn't expected to even talk to anyone – all I really wanted to do was hand over the gift I've bought and then plonk myself in the corner, glaring at all the other kiddies like a particularly angry gargoyle dressed in a pink dress.

I may not have been the most threatening of people, but I was gonna at least make an effort. The whole 'turning up an hour early' really threw a wench in the works, and whilst it was sort of interesting to meet Yamamoto's father, all he was really was a slightly older Takeshi. They were like carbon copies of each other, a fact that is both endearing (the world needs more Yamamotos around) and frightening at the same time.

"Here you are," the genial man said, setting a lacquered cup in front of me with surprising finesse. Thick puffs of steam billowed from the contents, rising languidly, and a quick peer into the cup allowed me to tell the contents immediately.

I'm not a tea expert, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what _green tea _is, especially since it's, well, _green._

"Tea?" It's hard not to be sceptical about it, considering I had the physical age of four. If I was older, then I would understand, but normally this is the stage where the greatest drink we could ever possibly hope for is Vimto, or if the parents are feeling particularly generous Coke.

"It calms you down, soothes you," I supposed he was right, and without any preamble started taking small sips of the beverage, having learned better than to just drink it like a cold drink.

"I've got a question for you," he paused, taking a small sip of his own drink, before continuing on, "Nagi-chan, is everything alright at home?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked, legitimately confused by the question. This question seemed to have come from nowhere, literally, and I had no idea of what to say to him.

Tsuyoshi remained silent, gauging me up, and I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

"I don't quite know what you think of me, and whilst there are many things out there that I don't know, I can safely say that whatever you are thinking about my home life is wrong." Blunt and rude it may have been, but I had to get my point across.

I was saved from whatever he would have said in response by Takeshi's arrival.

_Takeshi Yamamoto you are a lifesaver._

His clothes may have been ruffled, but that didn't mean he was any less a knight in shining armour. Just pint-sized. You could probably carry him around in your pocket for emergencies, and set him loose to save the day.

"Haha, tou-san, have you already finished making all the sushi?" _Takeshi _- it sounded awkward calling him by his first name, having always called him Yamamoto, but it would have been even more bizarre referring to the both as Yamamoto – asked, managing to the save the day without even trying.

"Bahh, it was nothing for your old man," he sparkled, his personality taking another massive twist, tossing his son a thumbs up and the cheesiest grin.

I could only watch, in mild awe, as they somehow managed to have a conversation between each-other that consisted solely of laughs, hand movements and _sushi code._

Yes, _sushi code. _I have no clue what an _Octopus Surprise _could even relate to, and frankly I could care less. The Yamamoto family should have a nature documentary – David Attenborough would have a field day documenting the habits and natures of the Yamamotos.

"Oh, tou-san, will there be any of those small round meat patties? Oh, and will there be some _Toro _as well?" Somehow, during that entire exchange, the little rascal had managed to weasel his way into the chair next to me.

A sniff.

_Yea, he's still wearing that delightful brand of eau de sweat. _

I was beginning to associate all boys with the smell of sweat, and I have to wonder if that's what all mothers seem to smell when around their kids – sweat and soap.

I was just glad that he was yet to be at the B.O stage. When that particularly delightful stage rocks up I'll be talking to them with a twelve foot pole – the only reason he would even stick around was to laugh at their sorrow, when they discover the wonders of their voice breaking.

It'll be like looking at a bunch of telephone poles that have inhaled helium, and he would _love it._

…_But what happens to girls during puberty? And doesn't it also happen a bit before it does for boys?_

As I wasn't a girl (or am I – what do I even identify as _anyway? _Male or Female? Those guys down at Omegle would have a field day) I haven't exactly been intimate with the knowledge of what happens to girls outside that which is commonly known.

Periods, debilitating cramps and _breasts._

_Oh god I'm screwed._

"_Ano, _Nagi-chan, you alright," somewhere during my existential crisis, Takeshi had slapped his hand over my forehead – which hurt, damn it – and was presumably checking my temperature, "you've gone really quiet?"

"Baka, I'm alright," see I was being nice. I didn't say he smelled.

"Nagi-chan, it's my birthday," he whined, "be nice to me…and is that for me?" With the attention span of a kid in a candy store, his eyes were absolutely _riveted _onto the baseball printed gift that sat innocuously on the table.

I was almost impressed.

"Yes, Yamamoto, yes it is," I said, as if speaking to a child. And I was, so I wasn't even being patronising.

"Can I open it?" If you looked closely you could even see the tail wag. With nothing else but a short nod, me and Yamamoto senior observed as the baseball fanatic tore into the wrapping paper.

"It's a box!"

I'm pretty sure that my head left a crater in the table.

"Open the box, baka," I refused to even life my head off the table, praying to any god that would listen that he would grow out of it.

"Oh," the rustling of paper was all I needed to know that he was getting round to opening it, "Tou-san, can you open this for me? I can't get past the c-cell-cello…"

"Cellotape."

"Yea, Cellotape!" His tongue still stumbled over the words, but he got the point.

"Give it here," Tsuyoshi punctuated his words with the trademark Yamamoto laugh, his worn hands catching the box as it was slid across the table.

My head had still yet to leave the crater in the table, leaving me without sight, but the ensuing silence left me wondering just what was taking them so long to open a box. It shouldn't take the combined brainpower of an adult long enough to figure out the oh-so-_complicated _mechanics behind opening a cardboard box.

I lifted my head out of the hole – you know you are spending far too much time in it when it was starting to become warm and slightly cosy – blinking the dark spots out of my eyes. By the time the blasted things had left, I was left wondering if maybe, just maybe, I had sustained some sort of brain damage, because I was treated to the sight of the two Yamamotos being stumped by cellotape.

_What a genius pair._

"Tsuyoshi-san," I pointedly ignored the cries of '_Oji'_, "You are a sushi chef," here he nodded, face still blank, "to chop the fish, you use…"

His face remained blank, as if lost.

"You can cut the cellotape with a _knife," _Tsuyoshi finally cottoned on to the whole thing after I handed it to him, gift wrapped. Actually, not gift wrapped, chances are he wouldn't be able to open the bloody thing and we would be back to square one.

"Ahh," the man stood up, not even fazed, "Don't worry 'Keshi-kun, Nagi-chan, I'll save the day!"

The admiration Takeshi was showing his father was unnerving, and I swear that if I squinted I could have seen _moonbeams_ flying from his body.

With dexterity that I didn't even think was possible, Tsuyoshi vaulted over the counter, ninja rolled into the backroom and scurried inside like a man on a mission.

"Yamamoto, what time is it?" I felt a sudden feeling of dread, wondering just how long I've spent here.

He just blinked back, as if I've just asked him how the universe was formed.

"Aha, I don't know how to tell the time yet."

_Note to self: prolonged exposure to the natural phenomenon known only as 'Yamamoto Neanderthalus' can lead to intense migraines._

"I forgot, you're only four." Time didn't seem to move fast enough, and I couldn't wait until I was the age that I had died at. Far past the woes of childhood, past _puberty_ (the word itself made me uncomfortable), and into the beginning of the end of my life.

It was odd, now that I really think about it, but I would be _48 _by the time I would be physically 24. 48 going on 24 should be the name of a movie; it would certainly be bizarre if nothing else. Almost as bizarre as the fact that I would be having a mid-life crisis by the age of _10._

"Hey, Nagiiii, I'm 5 now – that means I'm older than you."

"Cute. Does that mean I have to call you _Senpai _now_?"_

"It's okay, you're my friend."

"Good, because I'm not going to go running around screaming 'Senpai notice me'."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Yamamoto-san," I sighed.

_Where is Tsuyoshi anyway?_

"I'm back," with the biggest grin to date, Tsuyoshi stood in the doorway, wielding what I swear where the biggest knives I have ever seen in my life. It was like they've been promoted from puny knives to full-blown _Katanas, _and I had to wonder just what he would have to use those on.

"…are those really necessary? You're opening a box, not fighting off a feudal lord." I commented.

And I was ignored.

_Oh, gee, thanks._

"Is Tou-san going choppy choppy?" Takeshi looked absolutely diabolical.

"Tou-san's going choppy choppy."

"Yay!" Takeshi cheered loudly, as if what we were about to witness was the greatest event known to mankind.

"Don't you think you're overdoing it? It's a small box." And wouldn't you know it, I was ignored again.

It was like they had forgotten I had existed.

_They're like kids; it's just what kids do._

With the finesse of a master swordsman, the middle-aged man neatly sliced the top of the unsuspecting box off, sending it billowing into the air. His arms were like a blur, shredding the poor cardboard, the remnants raining down on us like confetti in a festival.

The brat had managed to grab the box under the rain of cardboard, pulling out the gift that I had spent so long in picking out.

"Umm…what is it?" For the very first time, I've seen Takeshi's slightly bewildered face. If I had a camera, I would take a picture.

Oh wait. I do.

One quick, sneaky snap later and I had an image of a confused Yamamoto holding a drum.

"It's a Taiko – the drum-like thing that you seemed to be having far too much fun with in music the other day," the idea was as bad as it sounds, whoever suggested gifting rampant shrimp loud and unwieldy music instruments should be locked away, "and that's not all I've gotten you."

_He's so going to love this thing._

He set the drum down precariously, as if it would shatter if he was too rough with it, before reaching his hand back into the box. Whilst the gift that I had gotten was pretty obvious, I made it as special as I could, all things considered.

The rising baseball star pulled out a long, slender wooden bat – a bat that was slightly worn, chipped – before his eyes caught onto the inelegant blocky cursive scrawled across the side.

"Is this?"

"It is."

"What is it?" Tsuyoshi interjected, curious.

All the younger Yamamoto did was offer his father the bat, happy as can be. He also read the inscription, before turning to me with a peculiar look in his eyes, as if seeing me in an all new light.

I didn't like it. Not at all.

"Nagi-chan, could you help me out back handle the sushi?" He asked, words stilted and measured. "And 'Keshi-kun, don't break anything with that bat, okay?"

If one good thing came about getting him the bat then it was the fact that the birthday boy was in a world of his own – World War 3 could be going on and he would be enamoured with the bat.

Doggedly, I followed my self-proclaimed Oji-san into the back, who after making sure Takeshi hadn't followed us in turned to me.

"How did you manage to get _Ichiro Suzuki _to sign a baseball bat?"

"Would you believe me if I said I asked nicely over the phone?" One look of his stern face told me otherwise. "Okay, but that's exactly what happened."

"It isn't nice to tell lies, young lady, as I doubt he would agree to any person who sent him a letter telling him to sign an autograph a personal bat." I was actually shocked that he would even pull the angry father routine.

_I wonder if Puppy-tou would have done the same thing._

"I, well, suppose I'd have to tell you my full name then. Maybe then you would believe me." Tsuyoshi was stony, but he nodded as if to say continue. "Whilst the name that I give your son is the name that I identify as, _Nadeshiko Nagi, _my full, legal name would Kirijo Nagi."

"The very same superstar Kirijo Sakura?" He seemed as if he didn't believe me, and I fully understood why.

I wouldn't believe me.

"The very same. I don't really spend much time with her, as she spends most of her time when she isn't doing performances or interviews taking care of the family business." I confessed, slightly annoyed that I was being questioned.

"So that's why you said before that they wouldn't really find this place appealing…" Tsuyoshi exclaimed, as if the final piece of the puzzle had come together. "But why would you go _Namimori _instead of the more upper class and privileged kids go to learn?"

"It was where my tou-san went." I snorted when he asked if Kirijo-san went there. "Not him, Nadeshiko Hidetoshi."

"That was her previous husband wasn't it?"

"Yup."

The conversation dried up then, him pondering over the new found information whilst I was left in silence to reflect on old memories. I no longer remembered what he truly looked like, what my previous parents looked like now that I think about it, and all I could remember was hazy feelings and disjointed words and names without faces.

"Puppy-tou…" I whispered under my breath, tears starting to build up in my eyes.

"Here." Lifting my head up, I was left gazing at a tissue, and with a muffled thanks started to dab my eyes. "Do you want to help me set up the platters? I sent a phone call round to everyone that was going to turn up at 12:00 to come at 12:30, when I went to go get the knives."

Thankful for the distraction, I accepted.

The silence that followed as we worked was neither comfortable nor awkward, and just was. We worked around the birthday boy, setting up tables as we went.

As we were finishing up and the kids were starting to pour in, all of them crowding around Takeshi, he called me over to an empty corner.

"Nagi-chan…" I tilted an eyebrow in response, "call me oji-san."

"Okay, Yamamoto-san."

_In your dreams, Yama-oji._

* * *

3 hours into this whole debacle and it has degenerated into a game of who would I rather kill more.

It was everything that I had feared the party would become. A metric buttload of kids had been dumped into the restaurant, running rampant like bite-sized elephants in the smallest of china shops, and I was slowly growing more and more annoyed as time went on.

If there was a Richter Scale for how annoyed I was, I would be pushing nine.

For the last three hours, I have been sat in the darkest corner that I could find, marinating, as I plotted the most diabolical of plans

Otherwise known as get out of this whole _shebang _alive and well, without any injuries relating to small children.

I was being given a more intense migraine from the events at the party then I did when I left a crater in the oaken tables.

"You alright there?" Tsuyoshi peered down from above, two of the monkeys hanging down from each arm.

"I'll be alright." Tsuyoshi must be stronger than I thought he was, if he could walk around with two small children hanging off his arm.

"I'll grab you a drink then." The busy adult was off once again, dropping the kids off near the gaggle of other kids before he entered the back room.

My eyes followed the children, trailing over the sea of brunettes, before finding the special boy. Takeshi was having fun, as he rightly should be, and I was happy for him. It was good that he could smile whilst his mother was in hospital. Plucking a slice of _toro _from the silver platter nearby, I continued observing, making sure that he was truly happy before moving on.

Ironically, there had yet to be an actual baseball game, for all of Takeshi's love of the game, and instead there had been quite a few multi-player games. There had been classics like 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey', 'Pass the Parcel' and even a game of 'Musical Statues' – all of which I refused to take part in like the crotchety old person that I was.

It just felt weird playing with a bunch of 4 and 5 year olds.

"Here you are," The elder Yamamoto had finally returned, a steaming cup of green tea in his hand once more, setting the piping hot cup onto the table.

"Thank you," I replied, grateful.

"So, how come you aren't playing with the other kids? Aren't you lonely over here?"

It was peculiar, but I was reminded of a quote from an old poet – "_Loneliness Clarifies" – _and I had to wonder just how true of a statement that was.

"The only reason I'm here is because Yamamoto-kun asked me to come. Otherwise I would still be sat at home, reading."

The camera that had been wrapped my neck now sat comfortably in between my legs, a heavy burden on my limbs, but I had yet to find a reason to pick it up and make "new memories", as Yuki said.

"Surely there must be something else that brought you here?" He almost seemed disappointed that I hadn't had any other reasons for coming.

"I came because he wanted me here," other than that, I had no real explanation for coming. I never really had a reason for doing much.

"I see…" Whatever he was about to say next was cut off by a fight brewing in the crowd, the atmosphere getting the best of them. "I'll be back over, just going to sort this out."

A blonde child and a brunette her having a heated argument over what hero would win in a fight, Superman or Goku, and it had quickly spiralled into heated insults. Well, as heated as a childish argument could get, where the ultimate insult involves some variation of 'poohead' or if they're feeling particularly vicious they'll bring their mothers into this.

Tsuyoshi went over, trying to diffuse the tension, and I quickly grew bored of the whole thing. There was only so much you could take from the same insults over and over and _over _again.

"You_ meanie,_" was the only morning I got before a warm, suspiciously _fishy _object collided with my face, sliding off with a wet flop.

_Did that troglodyte just throw shrimp sushi at me?"_

The tense silence that followed ticked on, as slowly my mind caught up with reality.

_Some troll is gonna die._

With a quick glance at the toro to my left, mentally calculating just how much there remained, before returning fire – launching the slightly wet sushi back at the criminal who had thrown it in the first place.

Armageddon had hit Takesushi. It was as if I returning the shrimp had opened the very gates of hell itself, and it had just started to spew endless amounts of fishy torpedoes. Toro, Carp, Salmon – many different types of sushi raced through the air, knocking down many a child that got in their path.

Even Yamamoto had gotten into the game, using the bat in a way that it wasn't intended to, the baseball fanatic using the many different types of sushi as practice by smacking them back at their owner.

At some points I was forced from my seat, dodging to the left to avoid one of the sushi baseballs, the speeding object splattering wetly by my head as it crashed into the wall.

The aftermath wasn't pretty. Chairs were upturned, knocked over by the stampeding kids, bowls of rice upturned and silver platters of sushi lay in disarray. Even the walls were not left untainted, sushi missiles from Yamamoto imprinted into the wall.

It was a fishy nightmare.

"Everyone…home…now." Apoplectic with rage, Tsuyoshi had quickly called the parents of the kids, telling them to pick up their children early, and before long each kid had been picked up and taken home – corralled out of the shops by angry parents and harsh words.

But that didn't stop me from taking a picture, a picture containing two smiling kids and a sushi war-zone.

* * *

Six O'clock came by quickly, and Yuki came to take me home.

Clutching the camera tightly, shattered, I crawled into the back of the car – tossing a weak wave at the two Yamamoto's. The engine roared loudly, and with a hasty "thank you for having me over" we were off, leaving Takesushi behind.

"So, how was it?" A lazy smirk was tossed my way, but I still noticed how ruffled the usually immaculate woman looked. There were tears in her clothes, as if she had been in a fight, and dirt stains in her jeans.

"It was good."

_I'll question her when we get back…_

Closing my eyes, I was lulled to sleep to the tune of an engine, suspicions momentarily forgotten.

* * *

**_Chapter 4, Fin~_**

**_...People, it may not be apparent, but she/he is becoming less angry O.O_**

**_I like this chapter because I feel like we really start to see a change in character. Nagi seems to be reaching out to others, and soon he may even be a not-so-jaded member of society. He will still be slightly judgmental, but I hope that this chapter signals a change from the hopeless and listless person that he was before into someone that can move on._**

**_That and I'm proud of myself for writing 6000 words in one day after my other chapter self destructed._**

**_I would have liked to have made the party section longer, but it was getting really late and I didn't want to delay the chapter any longer than I already had done._**

**_So, everyone, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter enough to leave a review, and I hope to see you again in the next chappie~_**

**_Regards, HalcyonNight~_**


	5. Growth: Epsilon

_**Disclaimer:**_**I do not own Katekyo. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately, it really depends on what you think xD**

**I don't like this chapter. But it introduces Tsuna. Ehh, a lot of my things chapters have been filler-ish lately, but the chapters afterwards tend to have serious business in. It's a thing.**

**I don't think that's a spoiler...it just means look forward to chapter 6, as that is where stuff goes down.**

**Anyway, once more, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT - 18 Reviews/55 Faves/ 61 Follows - it really means a lot to me, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading :D**

**All the review replies have been sent out, so without further ado, here is chapter 6~**

* * *

It took one week, one whole week, for me to finally corner Yuki.

Miraculously, and I still haven't figured out _how _she managed to evade me for so long, the enigma managed to hold out for an entire week before I could catch her. She's like a ninja, fading into the background whenever she doesn't want you to find her, and only reveals herself when it benefits her.

I'm certain that the only reason that we were even _having_ this conversation was that it would, undoubtedly, benefit her own plans in some way, shape, or form.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of us, amethyst meeting dusky-opal, as we just _stared _at each other. We were in the Nadeshiko, no, _Kirijo _estate's private garden – a large and beautiful allotment that spread far and wide, a beautiful bed of cultivated flowers from all around the globe. The full moon hung limply in the night sky, as if hung from a glass ceiling, amongst a lovely backdrop of stars.

If Sakura-san found out about my being here then I would be in serious trouble; we both would be.

"So, what is it you need, _Kirijo-sama," _the words rolled off her tongue like liquid poison, Takeba's misty orbs glinted in the light of the moon, the woman in question resting languidly on an old bench.

"I had almost forgotten what I was here for," I blithely commented, falcon gaze pinned on the woman in red. "But, something tells me that you already know what I want, and what I have been wanting for a long time."

"Please, humour me," her voice held a teasing lilt to it.

"If you insist," sighing, I carefully worded my next question, as if it was anything less than perfect than she would _easily _weasel her way out of it in an instant. "Why were you rooting around my personal belongings?"

"Is that all you wanted to know?" She actually _laughed, _amused by the question. "Of all the questions you could have asked me, you ask me _that_?"

"It's the only question that I care for." I answered honestly. Whilst I am curious about her background, why she acts the way she acts, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she wouldn't answer.

"I don't know whether or not I should be happy that it wasn't something more probing or if I should be gravely insulted by the fact that you aren't interested in little old me." Yuki pouted, and I didn't know whether or not it was real or an act.

"Take it how you will, but answers would be nice." Eyes sharp, I tread over flowers and dirt alike, taking a seat next to the older woman.

"It's nice out, isn't it?" Instead of answering the question, she looked up into the night sky. "My mother used to say to me that memories are important, that memories should be treasured above all else."

_Just what is she on about now?_

Despite how much I wanted to bring the conversation back on track, to force her into telling me _why_, I remained silent. It felt like what she was saying was important, so against my better judgement I stayed quiet.

"For every star in the sky, for every one of those little balls of gas, there is a memory. Good or bad, they take their place high up there." She pointed, her gloved hand raised high in the sky, picking out one star in particular. "Sirius, the dog star, reminds me of memories of home. It reminds me of long days relaxing on the beach, of happy days relaxing with friends and family."

"To me, it's just another star in the sky." I really didn't see where she was going with this. "Pretty, but hardly important."

"And that's why I looked through your belongings." She sighed, and for the first time I felt like I was looking at the real Takeba Yuki.

"You looked through my stuff because I don't see the relevance of a bunch of balls in space?" I had to resist the urge to face palm, _hard, _at her reasoning.

"It's not that. You just seem, well, _empty." _Yuki stressed, turning to face me. "It's like, I look at you and I don't know what I'm seeing. You don't make any sense, whatsoever, and whenever I look at you all I see is just this emptiness."

"In the short time that we've known each other, I've been worried about you. It's not healthy to be so withdrawn from everything." She finally turned away from me, gaze turned to the ground, on the bed of crinkled flowers. The normally flippant woman looked lost in thought, and I had no idea what she was doing

"You're worried about me then?" My voice was quiet, and no matter how much I despised the sound of it, _meek. _"I expected something much more _sinister._"

"Oh," she simpered, her coy mask returning. "What were you expecting? A dashing femme fatale? A mysterious and stunning assassin? A Mafioso from abroad hired to keep tabs on a frozen heiress?"

"Don't get your hopes up. If anything I thought you were _positively insane _for actually taking this job," my physical age may be four, but I have had over twenty years of experience – and something about her story I just couldn't get my head around.

Takeba Yuki claims to be taking this job for the money, but that reason just doesn't make any sense. During the days that I was hunting her down, I asked around a bit, talking with the other 'personal helpers' about their days. They were simple, innocent questions – if they ended up being more _personal_ then it was of no fault of my own.

Between all the talk of their private lives, of their family and their friends and their dates, we often managed to find our way to the subject of money.

Or, rather, the _lack _of money they get from this job, and how they have to work part time elsewhere to make up for what they lack.

Which left me in the rather curious position of wondering why she lied in the first place.

"The money's nice," infuriating as it was, she was still sticking to that reason, as if it was the truth.

"You're earning just below minimum wage," I deadpanned.

"The money's nice." The dance instructor stood soon after that, a crinkled snapdragon slotted in her hair. "I'll see you tomorrow, Nagi-chan."

Blink.

Blink.

_The moneys…nice? _

"Hey," I called out, the retreating woman pausing at the garden exit. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'll tell you, little princess, when you can learn how to smile."

And with that she was gone, leaving the garden as if she was never there.

Leaving me all alone.

* * *

She was stubborn, that was for certain.

I've lost count on how many times I've asked her to explain herself, but each and every time that I asked she just dismissed the question, instead focusing on something else to do with me. It could range from the typical question of 'how was your day today, you do anything fun?' or to more strange questions like 'you have a boyfriend yet?'.

…Often which I replied with a glare and a general reminder of just what age I was.

Today was a school day, a Thursday, and like all Thursdays it was incredibly annoying. Not that every other school day wasn't incredibly annoying – it was just that this one managed to take the cake and eat it whole. The usual Thursday would be just like every other Thursday that came before it – you would have a bit of writing, a smidgeon of maths, and if we were particularly unlucky we'd have to do a bit of a sing-song.

But oh no, today had to be different.

This _bright_ and _wonderful _and all around disgusting Thursday was made up of three separate activities, activities that I have _lovingly _set up in a scale.

The first activity was absolutely _delightful_; a pleasure to take part in, something that I wished was part of my life, every_ day_ of my life.

It was cooking.

It was shit.

I give it a two out of ten.

* * *

_It was morning, and I was completely shattered. Staying up on a school night was the smartest idea I could have ever had in the world, and I certainly regret it now._

_Our classroom was a large, spacious and incredibly empty room. There were a few displays set up, pictures of animals and rich caricatures of people dotting the room – and by rich I mean god-awful, but you can't really expect much from a bunch of kids – and on each and every desk was a small sign that shouted to the world who you were._

_There was Yamamoto's, a sheet of ivory absolutely drenched in baseball-related objects. Hana's, who left nothing more than her name in elegant cursive. And then there was Kyoko's, whose sheet was made up of innocence and sparkles and the blood of the innocents._

_Our teacher, Ms Toriume, stood up at the front of the class, all cheery. _

"_Today class, we'll be learning how to bake bread." All smiles and laughter, she shepherded us out the class, urging us on with kind words. We walked through the hallways, until ending up in an old room filled to the brim with cooking equipment._

"_What," I had muttered, mind duly processing what we were meant to do_

_We were four, or I supposed a majority of us were - Takeshi, and Kyoko had turned 5 recently. Some of us could barely tell the time and they expected us to cook._

_Geared up, I looked around, taking in all the midgets surrounding me._

_This was going to suck._

* * *

I'm still a bit lost on how a bunch of _five year old midgets _were supposed to handle _cooking. _I'm certain that half of them couldn't even read (Miyamoto, the awful baseball player, had to be escorted after a ball of dough smacked him in the face – and I wasn't even the one that threw it, _Kyoko _did) so how they were supposed to follow written instructions was a mystery that not even Sherlock could solve.

But hey, look on the bright side, I was left with a delicious loaf of bread that I'm certain is the envy of many-a professional chef.

…Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best in the world. But I'm still allowed to be proud of my work, right?

Right?

_Right._

The second part of the day, as it were, was the one that I will never speak of again. It was horrible, tremendously so, and I refuse to even think about it.

And the third…the third was _this._

"Everybody, get together with your friends," Ms Toriume's saccharine tone made my heart melt _painfully. _"We'll be doing some _won-der-ful _drama today, which I'm sure you'll all enjoy."

I briefly wondered if I could use the caveat of _not having any friends, _but then I realised that I'll probably be lying out of my arse. Loathe as I am to admit it, I _suppose _Yamamoto could be called a friend, and if we were really stretching the definition you could throw Hana and Kyoko in there, even if the conversations between us were few and far between.

…For the first time in a very long time, I'm actually glad to have a child's body. It would be strange if an adult male was friends with a load of children.

_Let's not go down that road please._

"Nagi-chan," the athletic child known only as Takeshi crashed down from above, hanging from around my neck like a mutant sloth, "can we work together?"

"I'm surprised you're asking. Normally you just fall on top of me until I say yes." Yamamoto didn't even bother looking repentant.

"…Is that a yes?"

"Yes, Yamabaka, it is a yes."

"Yamabaka?" He was smiling. He _shouldn't _be smiling after I've insulted him with an ingenuity that was the envy of thousands of schoolchildren across the globe. "Is that a pet-name?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response…" I had long since discovered that, if Yamamoto was anything, it was surprising. "To be frank, I'm surprised you even know what a _pet-name_ is, especially after we had that conversation about forks."

"Maa, stop bringing it up."

"No. I won't. You can toss around baseballs, you can spout gospel about these Baseball Gods, and you can write. The fact you can't use a fork is hilarious to me." Yamamoto was pouting, legitimately pouting, and I oh-so-desperately wanted to laugh at his sorrow.

And wasn't the fork story a story for the ages.

* * *

"_Yo, Nagi-chan?" Yamamoto, covered head to toe in flour, looked sheepish._

"_What is it, Yamamoto-san," my mind was more focused on the bread in front of me, the dough rising ever-so-slowly in the oven, the soft ticks of an egg timer whittling down from above._

"_Do you know what this is?" Takeshi stuffed in front of my face a slab of stainless steel._

_Vision out of focus, I took my eyes away from the fascinating loaf, instead gifting the apparent mystery object with my entire focus._

"_Yamamoto-san," I was unsure on how to respond to his question, "I don't know why you're bothering me with stupid questions. That wonderful piece of technology you're holding is a fork."_

"_A fork," he looked intrigued, tasting the word slowly, drawing out the syllables. "What's it for?"_

"_Yes, a fork. Westerners use them to eat." the bread was inflating – a bit like a fluffy balloon – and it was amusing._

_Wow. I'm so easily pleased._

"_So they're a bit like chopsticks?" in typical Yamamoto fashion, his hands wrapped around the prongs, dual-wielding forks in the way that you would chopsticks._

_I had a feeling that today was going to be a long, long day._

* * *

If you look closely at his hands, you could still see the pale trenches left in his hand by the fork.

"Anyway, Yamabaka, don't you think we need more people?" I changed the subject, wary of Ms Toriume slowly but surely dancing her way towards us, stopping and talking to children on her way over.

The bubbly monstrosity was forcing children into groups as she went, gathering strays and then slotting them into group as she went.

In the blink of an eye, Yamamoto had disappeared

And then he was back, just as quickly as he had left, arms slung over two imps that I was happy to say that I had never had the pleasure of meeting.

Actually, that's a lie, I've met one of them before. Yamato was essentially Miyamoto mark 2.0 – almost to the point where they looked the same. They were almost carbon copies of the other, which made sense since they were _identical _twins, with the only difference being that I could stand him. Though that really doesn't mean much, as the only reason I could stand him was because he hadn't hit me with a baseball.

But the other imp that he brought was what really caught my curiosity. It was like someone had stuffed Bambi into a human body, and then injected him with sugar and spice and everything nice. The dough ball was small, almost as small as Kyoko even, with large doe eyes and a fearful smile. He was someone who I had never really even _noticed _in the classroom – and I noticed _quite a few _people, thank you very much, it's just that I really don't care much about them – so to see him now was a bit of a shock.

"Yamamoto-kun, why am I…" Yamato trailed off, before noticing just who he was next too, "Dame-Tsuna?"

_Dame…Tsuna?_

"Pardon?" perplexed as I was, it took a moment for my mind to catch up with the words that were being spoken.

"I'm going." Yamato turned, ad with nothing but a scoff he was off, disappearing back to wherever Yamamoto had dredged him up from.

_ has stopped working. Please reset._

"Is everything okay over here?" Ms. Toriume asked, peering down at us from above in something close to, but not quite, concern.

"Aha, we're fine, sensei," Takeshi laughed, always the saviour (personally, I was still lost on what had just happened in the last five minutes), "we only have three people though…"

"That's alright! Drama is about living and smiling and being happy!"

_Back up. What did she just say? _

"Living…smiling…being happy?" This felt far too convenient – I don't think Yuki meant this when she meant 'learn to smile'.

"You say something, Nagi-chan?" Ms Toriume was giving me the look teachers gave all their students when they wanted answers.

And I should know. I did want to be a teacher, back in the day.

Who knows, maybe I still can? All I had to do was wait a while and maybe, just maybe, there was that slight chance that I could be still be a teacher.

"Nothing, sensei, nothing that can't wait until later." _Sensei '_aahed' softly in understanding.

"Okay then, come find me later, and we can talk then Nagi-chan,' she_ smiled_. "But, I'm sorry, I need to borrow Yamamoto-kun here for a little bit, is that okay with you? I'll return him soon, don't worry about that. I can leave you two to figure something out to perform, can't I?"

I tossed a furtive look at the dough-boy next to me, the so-called _Dame-Tsuna, _who still looked wounded from before.

_This may be just what I need to figure him out._

"Maa, it'll be alright Nagi-chan – I'll come back." Yamamoto said, reminiscent of a sage, in what appears to be an attempt at _consoling _me. "Just make sure there's baseball involved!"

He must have mistaken the looks I've been giving Dough-Boy for something akin to trepidation.

_That's…remarkably sweet of him. Thanks, Yamamoto._

"I'll be fine. Heroes come back, after all." cheesy, yes, but we were kids and that means I can be cheesier than a damn Wotsit if I wanted to be.

Once more, he was gone, lead away by Ms Toriume to do who knows what.

_Now time to get answers._

"So, you're Tsuna, correct?" with Yamamoto out of the picture, I could talk to the youth with at least some semblance of privacy.

"…yea." voice meek, _weak, _the brunette's caramel eyes screamed to the world how lonely he was.

"So, what made you want to join up with us?" absentmindedly, I tapped an all-too-familiar rhythm on the table, ignoring the noises of the other kids as they got into their roles.

"I un-un-under-stan' if you don't want me here," Tsuna stood, as if to leave, "I'll just go, I'm sorry for wasting your time, Nagi-hime."

_Shit, how do I deal with depressed children? Takeshi, where are you when I need you around?_

"Sit down." I ordered, demanding. If I was suddenly a princess then it was his fate to obey. "As _princess, _I insist that you remain."

"But…"

"No buts, tater-tot, you're sticking around. Who else is gonna play the role of…" I looked at him imploring, waiting for him to offer his name.

He just blinked those doe eyes back.

_Why would I expect a five year old to understand the nuances of a social situation?_

"Your name." I bit out, elaborating.

"Sa-wa-da Tsu-tsu-na-yoshi." Tsuna_yoshi's _juvenile tongue forced the complicated syllables out, the child struggling to say his own age.

"And what do you want to do when you're older?"

"A Giant Robot!" Is it a trait all children share, sparkling, or had I inadvertently stepped into the _Twilight Zone._ You had Yamamoto with his baseball, Kyoko with existing and now Tsuna with giant metal robots.

_Note to self, find some way to introduce Dough-boy to Transformers._

"So, yeah, who else is gonna play the role of Sawada Tsunayoshi, Giant Robot Superhero, as he gallantly rushes to save the brilliant, inspirational and all around spectacular Lord Nagi." I was brilliant, a genius even.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't necessarily the best plot in the world, but it was at least one step ahead of anything made by M Night Shyamalan.

"Lord?" Despite the pitch and the tenor, you could sense the confusion.

"Yes, Lord," repeating the word to him, I elaborated further, "I don't want to be a queen, or a princess, or a Lady – I want to be a Lord."

"…aren't you a girl though?" Suddenly, something occurred to him, and if possible Bambi became even more fearful. "You don't have cooties, do you?"

"No, Tsuna, I'm not a girl. I'm secretly a grumpy old man trapped inside the body of a four year old girl. For realzies."

"You don't have to be mean about it," he pouted, _pouted, _and it made him look like the cutest of dead puppies, "but you don't have c-cooties, do you?"

"I'm a girl, Tsuna. A girl. As you are a boy," under my breath, I couldn't help but mutter 'barely', "I'll always have some form of it in your eyes. Unfortunately." It was a sad reality, but to a boy every girl under the age of 7 has it. Which is disconcerting, considering it was essentially childhood Herpes.

"You do," he screamed, _loud._

_Jesus he's got a pair of lungs on him._

"I don't, but I can't exactly go to a doctor's and ask them to test me for Her-Cooties." I consoled as best as I could, which only ended up horrifying him even further.

_I shouldn't be a parent. Ever._

"Is everything okay here?" concerned, our sensei – or rather, Agent Sparkle - returned with her band of merry men, approaching us carefully. Yamamoto joined her, a large mound of papers cradled in his arms – leaving only his eyes and hair visible.

He looked like a paper ninja.

"Is he alright?" Kyoko asked, also concerned by Tsuna's disheveled appearance.

"Everything's okay here, Sasagawa-san, I'm surprised Kurokawa-san isn't joining you today." I quickly changed the subject, well aware of the three pair of eyes sizing me up, judging me. "But, why exactly are you here - elaborate please."

"Oh," it took her a while to respond, most likely she was trying to figure out the seemingly random question. "Well, Yamamoto-kun saw me alone and asked if I wanted to join, so I accepted."

"Convenient," it seemed a bit too convenient for her to be by herself, especially considering the fact that she isn't exactly a social pariah. It was small at the moment, but her fan club was slowly but surely growing – to the point where I'm certain in a few years she'll become some untouchable idol, equipped with the ravenous fan club that all idol needed.

"I'll take your word for it…" Agent Sparkle turned to her little glitter brigade, and with a quick goodbye and good luck Ms Toriume was off, prancing over to some over group to check on their progress.

"No, Yamabaka. I didn't threaten to eat him. I didn't try and beat him up, I didn't try to convince him he was adopted, and before you say anything I didn't even say anything even remotely offensive. I was on my best behavior."

Seeing him about to open his mouth to say something, I quickly intercepted that particular train of thought.

"And no, Yamamoto, I didn't ask if he wanted to play baseball." A quick glance over to Kyoko told me that she was currently talking to a heavily blushing Tsuna.

"…does he want to play baseball though?" Yamamoto looked to the ceiling, deep in thought.

…_Never again am I working with Yamamoto on anything, ever._

"I'll get started on scripts then" I sighed, tired. "Any ideas on plot?"

"Baseball." A decisive nod.

"Giant Robots." An owlish blink.

"Princesses." A airy giggle.

_I should have known it wouldn't have been easy._

* * *

Nudge.

"…Yamamoto."

A snort was his response.

"Yamabaka."

A grunt.

"Takeshi-san?"

_Ok that's it I don't care who he is but we're up any minute now to do our little performance thing, and I am in no mood to be __**gruffled **__at – like what even is that noise anyway. It sounds like a snoring horse that has been ramped up on LSD, like really please Takeshi wake up or I'll feed you to the lions._

"Wake up Yamamoto or I swear I'll sacrifice you to the baseball gods." It seemed that baseball was the magic word, and like a zombie clawing its way out the ground Yamamoto clawed his way out of Morpheus' embrace.

"I would give everything for the baseball gods." Voice heavy and rough from sleep, Yamamoto's high-pitched voice was filled to the brim with determination.

"That's nice," I'd have to keep track of that fanaticism, it seems like it could cause quite a few problems later on in life. "But we've got a performance to do, so buckle up Izanagi and let's do this."

"Iza-nagi? Aren't I Yamamoto?" He looked adorable, all confused.

"Don't worry Chuckles, it was only figurative." The sparkle brigade all looked at each other, bewildered, and I was beaten over the head with the fact that they weren't adults.

_Why. Do. I. Forget. That. They. Are. Only. Children._

If only there were genius children out there, children that were aged far beyond their years, children that I could sit down with and have an _adult _conversation with.

But then, if wishes were reality, I would be back home, alive and male.

_If only indeed._

"Are you alright?" Tsuna asked, wide eyed and curious.

A soft sigh and a smile that never came close to reaching my eyes was my response.

"Mecha-Tsu, why wouldn't I be?" Sawada looked troubled, but left it at that – my other two _friends_ had already forgotten what had happened.

"If you say so," he clearly didn't believe my lie, but let it go anyway.

"Nagi-chan, should we get into the zone now?" Kyoko asked, and after my nod, she quickly put on her persona.

"Hey, you guys, no talking whilst other people are performing." Ms Toriume scolded, stern, her voice in a stage whisper to not interrupt the riveting scene taking place in front of us.

"Aha, sorry teach," Yamamoto apologised, followed swiftly by Tsuna, Kyoko and myself.

"Everything is A-okay if you apologise," emphatically nodding, the other students nodding in agreement.

And then suddenly I'm not surprised by the class's behaviour – it was all because of sensei.

At least that was _one_ mystery dealt with.

_What a mysterious woman._

"Now smile everyone," she sing-songed, omnipresent smile plastered on her face, and all the children in the nearby vicinity smiled.

Tsuna smiled.

Kyoko beamed.

Takeshi laughed.

I cringed.

The happiness of children is my Kryptonite, it seems, which isn't as surprising as it should have been.

"Ahh, Miyamoto-kun, that was…good," Sensei cheered, clapping exuberantly for the baby troll and his _really _poor acting troupe. "Next up we have…"

"Team Snarky Sparklez." Kyoko replied, sparkling like our name suggested, and I hastily added 'with a z'.

_Because you know, we're edgy and cool. And also sarcastic – if you couldn't tell already._

"Give it up for Team Snarky Sparklez!" She even gave us a little drum roll. How nice of her.

We slowly plodded to the front of the class, all sparklez (with a z – can't forget the z, otherwise we would be boring ol' sparkles and no-one wants that) and _snark _(if it wasn't a word then it was now, I'll damn well make it one), and after being coaxed by the teacher we turned our backs to the audience. Humming a cheerful little song, she flicked the lights, turning all of them off one after the other – mimicking the professional atmosphere all those theatres own.

Getting into position, I took a deep breathe, getting into character.

The lights went on, and we were in character.

"Hi." Kyoko, _Princess _Kyoko, said – her hands clutching a cluster of pencils as if it was a bouquet of flowers.

"Hi." I replied, slow yet confident, twirling an errant strand of amethystine hair absentmindedly.

"I've never seen you around the palace before." Twirling, imaginary dress dancing around her, she pulled out one of the chairs nearby, sitting down on it with all the finesse a five year old could muster.

Which wasn't much, but you get the picture.

"Good. Otherwise this would be a bit pointless." A mock punch to the face and Kyoko slumped, pretending to be knocked out. With an overdrawn, melodramatic look around, I pushed the chair off stage, making way for Mecha-Tsuna and Baseball Samurai Yamamoto to take the stage.

"My pre-shush daughter Kyoko-hime has been kid-na-ped by the evil Lord Nagi." Mecha-Tsuna valiantly tried to pronounce the words on the script held in his hands, and did well enough to get the point across.

"Oh no!" Yamamoto said, thankfully not laughing. Whilst a chuckle is appropriate sometimes, it would sort of defeat the purpose of a serious scene.

"Go get her back." Tsuna even decided to _ad gravitas _to the whole thing by stomping his foot.

"On the honour of Masahiro Tanaka-dono," solemn, the scene ended with Yamamoto's head bowed, as Tsuna tried (and failed) to look imperious.

As they shuffled off stage, I took the stage alone, face stony.

"I am Lord Nagi, enemy of Mecha-Tsuna. I don't like him because he smells of poo. I am mean because I don't like stooped people. I kidnapped Kyoko-hime because she is the most prettiest girl ever. Okay, I'm going now because I'm hungry." I felt physically wounded as I said it, the words pouring out my mouth feeling akin to literary acid, and with the token Soliloquy over and done with we moved on to the climax.

Yamamoto, with ruler pointing towards my face like a katana, trod on stage.

"Nagi-chan, you've been very naughty." Yamamoto broke character, waving the ruler haphazardly as he did so. "The baseball gods demand Re-ret-ri…"

"Retribution?"

"Yea! That!"

"Yamamoto-kun," Kyoko ran on stage, hiding behind Yamamoto as she did so.

"Hime-sama, I'll keep you safe." With his back to the princess, he faced me in determination.

Before being hit in the back of the head by Kyoko, flopping onto the floor, shouting to the world that his character had been killed.

"Kids, the moral too that story is that betrayal will get you everything you want in life, and that you should never trust people you don't know, or they just might turn out to be evil." The four of us lined up in a row, bowing to the one man standing ovation from Toriume-sensei.

_Ehh, it was better than nothing._

* * *

A crash, a bang, and the bell rang.

With a light goodbye, I watched as every child left the classroom behind, Yamamoto, Kyoko and even Tsuna waving goodbye as they left. I made sure that every child had left, before approaching the teacher.

"Toriume-sensei…" I started, unsure of how to actually ask what I wanted to ask.

"Yes?" she smiled imploringly, urging me on.

"How…how do you smile?" wow, I must get the reward for world's most stupid question.

"How do you smile?" she echoed, clearly confused.

"It's just that, I find it hard to smile, and someone said something to me about it," I looked anywhere but at her, eyes scanning the room instead of her face.

"Are you being bullied? If you are, you know you can tell me right?" crouching down to my level, she looked me straight in the eye.

I found it ironic that she was asking if I was being bullied – I know I'm not the nicest in the world.

"No, it's just…" how do I explain to her that my enigmatic _helper _told me to learn how to smile?

Hazel peered at me, as if trying to figure some riddle out, and unveil some deep truth. I just waited in anticipation for her response, knowing full well that this could go badly.

"I think I've got something to help you…" bright-eyed, she looted her desk drawers, pushing aside papers and knick-knacks in her quest for something. Unable to do anything but wait, my foot tapped, impatient.

"Aha," with a cheer and a flourish, she passed a worn book towards me, "go on, this'll be everything you need – just give it back to me when you're done, okay."

I glowered at the cover.

_How to Smile for Dummies _ferociously glared back.

Either this was a joke, or she was being serious.

"Don't you have people waiting for you outside?"

She was being completely serious.

"Thank you…" skeptical as I was, I still took the book. For all anyone knew, it could have some brilliant piece of advice in there that'll get me my answers.

I'll just have to make sure that nobody sees me reading _How to Smile for Dummies, _as wouldn't that be a joy to explain.

* * *

"So Nagi-chan, how was your day?" Yuki sat in the front of the car, waiting patiently for me to arrive.

"It was something." it's the only way to describe it.

"So you learned anything today?" she didn't waste any time, and as soon as I was in we were off, zooming down the dusty roads.

"Well, I suppose I learned that betrayal gets you everything in life."

I decided that it was for the best if I ignored the bark of laughter that followed, and the following 'of course it does'. If I didn't, I'd have to actually think she was being serious.

* * *

_**Chapter 5, Fin~**_

**Chapter 4 is my favourite chapter. XDDDD. **

**Anyway, everyone, if you have issues with the line breaks not showing up whilst you read, I'll change the way I do them up. If you've read Halcyonic, and seen the latest chapter, I'd do the line breaks like that - where it's 'Scene Break' written between two Line Breaks. If I get enough notes about it I'll change it ASAP.**

**Okay everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, so until next time~**

**Regards, HalcyonNight.**


	6. Growth: Zeta

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!**

**ALSO IMPORTANT: I desperately need a beta, as I'm certain that there are errors here, and I don't have time to proof-read as thoroughly as I used to. My laptop is prone to randomly turning off, no matter what I do, and I had to type this up on a small tablet and with the local computers, which have a time limit when in use.**

**This chapter isn't as good as previous, but I'm getting back into the swing of writing this story, so hopefully next time it'll be more interesting.**

**Thank you so much for all of the support you guys have shown - 25 reviews/78 Faves/84 Follows - If we reach 100 followers/favorites I'll have to cook something extra special up for you guys as a celebratory thing.**

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**As always, enjoy~**

* * *

Believe it or not, everything that goes wrong in my life is somehow related, in some way shape or form to Yuki Takeba and her evil machinations.

I'm not even lying. _Not even slightly._

So okay, I _might_ be over reacting, but I'm certain that she is the source of all evil in the world. Her and Tsuna.

Why Tsuna? Because why not. I'm a sucker for small cute things who look and act as if they're small and helpless and...What was the word she used to describe them?

Something like Kowaii desu?

Or was it Kawaii desu?

I honestly don't know, nor do I care that much. I tend to tune out most of the nonsense that she spews when she reverts to her amorphous blob stage, as to be honest, I have more important things to think about and I wouldn't want her rather bizarre, and rather inane, ramblings tainting up my brain space.

I lightly stepped around the almost hysterical woman, giving the woman on the floor a disgusted look - of all the things that could have broken her cool persona it was this- all the whilst approaching Tsuna, whose wide doe eyes were staring at the fashionable enigma as if she would eat him whole.

Though, on second thought, she probably _would_ eat him whole, so I quickly did what I could to shield both of them from the other before they self-destructed into a fiery inferno of fangirling and sparkles.

After all, it wasn't quite bonfire night just yet. I have to wait for October to see what would happen if I let the ticking time bomb tick-tock on. Guy Fawkes wouldn't be amused if I didn't show any self-restraint.

Though, in saying that, it wasn't as if they celebrated Bonfire Night here in Japan. Or really anywhere else in the world. After all, it would be bizarre if the rest of the world celebrated the capture of a criminal that was planning to bomb the Houses of Parliament.

"So if it isn't my cute little Mecha-Tsu - are you out saving princesses, or are you here for a bit of R and R?" I laughed lightly, airily, as he blushed under the attention.

"What was that, Nagi-chan?" Yuki perked up, recovering from her dazed slump. "Is this your boyfriend? Hey...wasn't it _you_ that said you were too young for boys? For shame, I could have given you some tips on how to snag the cute ones."

She was going on like I've committed some sort of mortal sin, as if I had inadvertently cause doomsday by not telling her about an event that she has literally just dreamed up out of whatever perpetual drug-influenced delusion that hazed through her mind.

"You really need to stop taking drugs this early in the morning. I don't care about that '420 sweg' of yours; the first sign of many disorders is lacking an accurate perception of reality." Shrewd, I left the sentence hanging, meaning implicit.

"Should I be impressed that you even know a bit about psychology, or should I be disappointed that out of everything I say, you only pick out the bits where I was being sarcastic?" She sighed, disappointed, before facing Tsuna with a predatory gaze on her face. "So you're my cute little friend's boyfriend, huh?"

About to reply, I was interrupted by the appearance of a young, decidedly exuberant woman, who was gunning for a Tsuna like a man possessed.

"What's this about my cute little Tsuna having a girlfriend?" Assumedly, she was Tsuna's mother, and boy did she look happy about that declaration. "Tsu-chan, introduce me to your friend here."

From the dangerous glint in her eyes, her smile was as false as everything that comes out of Yuki's mouth.

In other words, _very _false. But that could be me just over-reacting. I've found that, in Namimori, almost everyone you meet has the potential to be a vicious, pathological liar. Call it paranoia, but it _works._

At the moment, I'm currently under the assumption that Kyoko was a drug baron, Takeshi was a mythical creature of laughter and death, and Tsuna was secretly a Mafia-Don-to-be.

...Okay, so maybe the last point is a bit iffy, but I'm sticking to it. I'd rather be pleasantly surprised when I'm wrong than to go through life under some transparent veil of deception. I'd much rather be in the know than to be left ignorant, that way I can do something.

"T-This is Nagi-kun," I clenched my fist, trying to resist the urge to hug him - is this what girls have to deal with day in day out, when something that's the textbook definition of cute pops up?

Because currently, Tsuna is the textbook definition of cute.

"Kun?" Tsuna's mother blinked owlishly, peering at me with a scrutinising gaze.

I squirmed, uncomfortable with the attention, unable to shake the feeling that she was looking into the depths of my soul, picking and tearing at the seams to pick out every single little wrong that I've committed in life.

"Yes, kun," I intervened before Yuki could say something, thanking the stars that for once I would get a _masculine _suffix. All other attempts were met with a laugh, and then promptly ignored.

This will be my first, and probably only, opportunity, to get some validation of being a guy, so I'm going to take this chance for what it was.

"Okay then, Nagi-kun, pleasure to meet you," amber eyes crinkled as she grinned, and if there were any doubts in my mind that they were related they were dashed when I saw just how alike they were, "my name is Nana, but you can call me kaa-san."

_...mother?_

I blinked, uncertain, wondering why all the parents around here wanted to get other people's kids to refer to them as family. First Tsuyoshi, trying to get me to refer to him as "Oji-san", and now Nana trying to get me to refer to her as "Kaa-san".

Maybe it was something in the water?

That was probably it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Nana-san," the femme fatale next to me answered, picture perfect smile pasted on her face, "we are both happy to have met you."

"Why don't you both come round for dinner some time, I know all about how hard it is to be a single mother, so we can all sit down and we can give each-other tips on child-raising." Nana bustled on, cheerful, rummaging around in her handbag for something.

"Pardon?" Yuki, for once lost for word, uttered - watching as the young woman searched for something. With a breathless "a-ha", she retrieved what she was after, pulling out a paper-thin card.

"This is my number," forcefully shoving it into Yuki's hands, I was left in a state of awe as I watched the normally cool and calm enigma become absolutely flabbergasted by the forward approach of the mother, who after making sure Tsuna was all ready to go _ran, _ran as fast as her little legs could take her, as if we would explode or something.

"Bye," waving, I watched them leave the gates of the park, waiting until they were gone before turning to Yuki, who was still in a state of shock. "So that was Tsuna, and Tsuna's mother apparently. We aren't really friends; we are more acquaintances if anything."

Red lipstick curved.

"So you and that moe-monster are friends?" She remarked, as if shocked by it all. "I'm surprised anybody could even stand your frigid personality. Any colder, and you'll get polar bears moving in."

"Cute." I muttered, walking in front of her. "But then again, I wasn't the one that was socialising. That was you, wasn't it? You and Sawada senior are just the _best of friends, _aren't you?"

"Of course, people just flock to me in droves," she fanned herself, tauntingly, high heels crunching grass underfoot as she followed, allowing me to lead. Well, I'm assuming that she is fanning herself, as that's a very Takeba-esque mannerism. She's either doing that or some variation of fiddling with her hair. "It must be my stunning personality, or maybe it is my ravishingly good looks? What do you think?"

"I think I know what they weren't coming to you for."

"Oh? And what may this be?"

"Modesty. It isn't _exactly _your strong point, is it?"

She scoffed, overtaking me. Her long strides quickly outpaced my own shorter, more hurried strides, the dark blue denim quickly obstructing my path.

"Who needs modesty? Modesty just gets in the way," her hands, covered in hard leather, rested on the seat of the swing - the young woman having glared at the kids previously occupying it to make them disappear - gesturing for me to join her, "but I wouldn't say I have an ego - I just have self-confidence."

"You just keep telling yourself that, one day you'll have your little bubble popped, and I'll be there to laugh at you when it happens," I said, giving the elder woman the _look _- the look you tend to give people when you are tired of trying to compute their stupidity and in a state of apathy about the whole thing.

"Something makes me doubt that. A lot."

"Why would you doubt it," curious, I frowned, trying to figure out what she meant, "it's not as if you are going anywhere, are you?"

"All I'm going to say, Nagi-chan, is that someday I won't be around and you'll be left to your own devices. It'll just be you, alone in the big bad world, and you better prepare for that."

"...If only you were normal, I wouldn't be so confused about everything." I grouched, aware of the irony in that statement - I wasn't exactly the _Dursley's_ when it came to _normalcy._

"But I'm not the only one with secrets, my dear. I'm just one of the rare few that will give you the chance to find out all my dirty little secrets." It was as if she wasn't aware of where she was, talking about this whilst out in public, letting it all out for the world to see.

"Maybe it would be better if you kept those secrets to yourself. Sometimes it's better that way." I whispered, trying to retain some semblance of secrecy. "If you keep it secret, maybe it'll go away."

"The truth never disappears," with a scoff, she stood, "anyway, let's move on - I won't be saying anything until you can smile."

"Now that you mention it, why are we here? You just sort of invaded my bedroom, ransacked all my stuff, stole my camera and shucked this frilly monstrosity in my face before carting me off to the park." Disdain dripping off of every word; I looked down, eying the pink frills and vanilla bows currently molesting me.

"Bah, shut up you look pretty," she shrugged the complaints off like they were water, "now that we're situated, we can get started on our plans for the day."

My muffled "you" was left ignored by her, sadly.

"Despite what you may believe, I would much rather not be doing this. But, as this is my job, I have to follow pretty much everything I'm told." Sardonic, she was back to her blunt, bored self. "The woes of earning a legitimate wage."

"You say that as if you've turned to more illicit means or money."

"Of course, who hasn't," she says this as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, "I used to card count in Casinos. It isn't illegal, but they certainly aren't happy with me?"

"...I should have known."

"Regardless of my endeavours, your father," for a moment I couldn't help but think of Puppy-tou, before I remembered that he wasn't around anymore, "Kirijo-san, has asked for me to _teach _you how to make friends with people."

"Really?" Colour me surprised. It's easy to forget that Kirijo-san even _existed, _let alone interacted with me in anyway, so for him to take an interest in me is, well, nothing short of a surprise.

"Indeed, apparently, and I'm not even certain where he got this information from, you aren't exactly the best at making friends." I opened my mouth, as if to contradict her, before slowly closing it as I remembered that I wasn't exactly a social butterfly.

Not that I cared. I was far too old to even be here, let alone make friends. I doubt I'll ever be able to make friends, as I was just too old for them.

"I think it was Nami-san," Nami was one of the other workers that roamed the house, sorting out anything and everything that was amiss. They were like ghosts, haunting the house, cleaning and cooking and doing any other job that needs to be done. "She isn't exactly the quiet type when it comes to..._delicate _matters like this."

"I love how you call it delicate," I scowled, annoyed. "It's not exactly a Mafia event or something."

"Okay, two things. One, the mafia _exists? _Like, is that actually a thing? Because I haven't heard anything about that before." I was probably just being my sheltered self, but I always did wonder if the mafia even existed. It's one of those things you hear about often, but don't really ever see on the news or in the papers.

"Nope." Yuki popped the "P", the sound reminding me of an explosive. "I was over-exaggerating. The Mafia doesn't exist - it's just a myth created or movies like the Godfather."

"Secondly," I continued on, undaunted, "How do you know what Mafia Events would be like? You're not involved with the Mafia are you?"

She just raised an eyebrow pointedly.

"I'll just say one thing. What did I just say?"

"The Mafia doesn't exist."

"We have a genius over here." I was probably just being over the top and stupid, so I dropped the subject. "Back to the matter at hand. We are in the park. What tends to be common in the park?"

"Toys," the eyebrow flicked upwards again, "people," here she became interested, gesturing her hands as if to say go on, "children?"

"There you go." She clapped sarcastically. "You really are a prodigy."

"Thanks. I try. It's just hard sometimes being naturally good at everything."

"I get that problem all the time. It's such a shame isn't it?"

"It's tragic." Changing the subject, I picked up on the fact that she had my camera tightly grasped in her hand. "And you never did tell me why you have my camera."

"Oh this?" She shook it around, for emphasis. "I brought this little baby to take pictures of when you fail horribly."

_I __**really **__should have known._

"Oh, look, there's someone over there," she pointed to the sandbox. "Go make friends with him."

I squinted, trying to make out the other boy's features.

He looked like a bizarre cross between a hedgehog and a shark. A hedgeshark? That'll do.

"Do I have to?" I pulled a face, watching in this strange mix of awe and disgust as he was throwing sticks around like they were javelins. "He doesn't look like he's very welcoming."

"But he'll be a looker in the future."

"...How do you even function?"

"Easily. Now go socialise." She nudged my back, pushing me towards the extremely hostile boy. "I'll be back here. Just don't have fun for too long, I don't want to stick around for too long."

"Why, where do you want to go after this?" I was still eying the boy like a hawk, who had finally noticed me looking at him. "And he really doesn't look friendly."

"That sushi place your friend owns. I want to try it out." I nodded, acknowledging her, before setting off towards the boy.

"I'll be back soon, _kaa-san."_ Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, I ignored whatever she replied with.

Every step I took towards the boy, the fiercer the scowl on his face became.

_Ten steps…_

He looked grumpy.

_Eight steps…_

He looked grumpier.

_Five steps…_

He looked murderous.

_Three steps…_

It looked like he was contemplating where to hide the body.

_One step…_

"Go away, herbivore," I blinked, unsure if what I heard was correct.

"Did you just call me a herbivore?" I wondered who his parents were - they certainly weren't David Attenborough.

"You are herbivore," his hand reached for one of those decidedly _sharp _looking sticks to his right, and if my eyes weren't playing tricks on me they even _glinted _in the sunlight. They weren't wooden sticks, they were _metal. _

And he was throwing them at kids.

"You really don't have a varied vocabulary, do you?" I don't even think he knew what a _herbivore _was. "And you really shouldn't say things like that; you'll probably get into a lot of trouble later on in life when you meet that one person that'll take you seriously."

He grunted, small hands delicately wrapping around the steel sticks.

"I don't know what you mean by 'biting people to death', but they may take it in the wrong way." He twitched, in an almost Tsuna like fashion. "I mean, it is a bit kinky don't you think."

"...what does 'kinky' mean." It wasn't a question. It was more like an order.

"I'll tell you when you're older." I wasn't about to go and teach a child what "kinky" meant.

"Herbivore. Now."

"No."

He remained silent, bored with the conversation. Deeming this attempt to make friends a failure, I retreated to a safe distance away, moving back towards Yuki. She had sat back down on the swing, watching the events taking place with a delicate frown on her face.

"Shouldn't we leave now," I started, "it's getting late now, and I'm starting to get a little bit hungry now."

I really, really didn't want to stick around anymore. For some strange reason, I really couldn't shake the feeling that I have just opened the gates of Hell, and that something really, really, _really _bad was going to happen if I stuck around any further. So bad that I'll end up in the hospital by the end of it.

"Well, your wish is my command," with a sigh, she stood up, as if she too knew that something was going to happen and that she was disappointed when it didn't.

Grateful, I paid no attention to the fact that she let me lead, or the faint whistling of air behind me.

I also paid it no mind when she laughed, muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "good try kid".

A thunk was the last thing I heard before we left the park.

* * *

If I could, I would go through life with a thesaurus.

I wouldn't even care about the strange looks I would undoubtedly get. I would put up with it all - if only to put into words the sheer feeling of disbelief that, currently, I'm all but _drowning _under. Sure, it would probably be annoying, tedious and an all-around _troublesome _endeavour, but it would be worth it.

Because currently, I'm lost for words. How on Earth any of the Yamamoto's managed to survive their childhood years is beyond me.

"You're both certified idiots," deadpan, I returned to my book, tracing the kanji with relative ease.

I refused to even look at them. They were both being ridiculous, and if I did have any doubts that they are related this would be the time where they would be crushed, crumbling under the combined fluffiness of two Yamamotos.

You may think that I was speaking metaphorically, but I wasn't. At _all._

Somehow, miraculously, they had managed to become fluff monsters. Or, well, dough monsters, but this dough was particularly fluffy. It was like watching two particularly excitable puppies in a bubble bath. At first, it may be quite cute and heart-warming, but then suddenly it becomes _doomsday _when they tread bubbles into the carpet.

When that happens, no amount of cuteness or sparkles will save you.

You would think, what with one of them being an _adult _that they would be able to go through the very basic, very simple procedure of baking goods. Especially when you realise that, as a renowned sushi chef, the senior Yamamoto had the skills required to cook _puffer fish – _a fish that can very well _kill_ you if prepared even slightly wrong.

But no. Apparently my standards are far too high for them. I really should have expected this, having known the younger for as long as I have, but still he surprises me.

Who knew that cooking bread, the very thing that we ever cooked _together _in _class, _was too much for the combined Yamamoto's to handle?

Then again, I saw how Takeshi handles a fork, so I really shouldn't be surprised.

With a sigh, I returned to my book.

I really should have learnt by now.

"Is this really the place?" Thoughtful, and deeply troubled by something, Yuki scanned the room - as if she was looking for something that just wasn't there.

"Yup." Droll, I traced the words, anything to avoid actively looking at them.

"Sorry, Nagi-hime," the deep guffaw clued me into who was talking, as unless this was some bizarre alternate dimension the younger Yamamoto hadn't had a laugh as deep as that.

"Sorry, Nagi-hime," the youngest Yamamoto soon followed, his own youthful laughter meshing with his father's.

"Apologise to me when you don't look like a baker's monstrosity. I swear, if I didn't know better I would say that you were related to the Michelin Man." I swear, if either of them even comes near me with those dough-y hands of theirs, I'll toss them both in an oven.

Make the best bread in the world. Let's see them laugh about _that._

"We weren't expecting your company today," Tsuyoshi-oji (that was actually becoming fun to say) crowed, beaming down at me from above in his foamy prison. "You should have said something."

"Yup, Nagi-hime," Takeshi echoed, the mirror image of his father.

"Unfortunately though, we can't stick around here for much longer," Tsuyoshi's exuberance dimmed slightly, drained, "we're both going out today, visiting family."

_They must have been baking things to give to family then._

"That explains why there isn't anyone here then." Yuki surmised, murky orbs dancing from table to table.

Guess I wasn't as perceptive as I thought I was.

"And you are?" Yuki was about to respond, only to be interrupted by Takeshi.

"Tou-san, that's Nagi-hime's kaa-san." He stressed this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, but knowing Takeshi it probably was.

"That makes sense," Yuki looked like she was being electrocuted. I stifled my laughter, knowing full well that Tsuyoshi knew exactly who my mother was and that he was just doing it that to rile her up. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave - we need to go get cleaned up."

"Don't worry about it, we'll come back a different day," I waved of the apology, knowing that they didn't mean anything about it.

"You better," they both left then, entering the back room, and it was only after Takeshi shouted one last "bye" that we chose to leave.

"Guess like we'll be taking Nana-san up on her offer then." Rueful, I followed Takeba out.

"...I don't look that old, do I?" She looked distraught.

"I would comfort you, but I'm finding this too funny."

"I'm not the one that is currently reading a book called _How to Smile for Dummies._

"Shut up and let's go."

* * *

"Well, guess like we're here then…" Yuki started.

"Let's enjoy ourselves then." I finished off for her.

Stood in front of us was a quaint, humble house - the sort of house that your average family would live in, and would most likely spend their entire lives in. Outside, engraved in the vanilla walls, was a small golden plaque adorned with the kanji for 'Sawada'. It was similar to many houses on this road, each and every house painted with their names on the outside. I always did find that particular aspect of these homes interesting - it was almost like they were marking this as theirs forever, that they would spend eternity in Namimori - which I couldn't help but find in equal parts fascinating and horrifying.

"It's kinda cute, in that cookie-cutter way." Yuki mused, and I had to agree with her.

It had this rustic charm to it that I quite liked.

We stepped through the gate, together, the old metal creaking in protest as it was pushed open and for one miniscule second I was worried that it would crash down to the ground. I didn't to have to explain that to Mrs Sawada.

"Why is there a _limousine_ outside?" she purred out, eying the out-of-place vehicle parked in the middle of the road, right next to Yuki's silver car.

"I don't really know, to be honest." How on Earth I missed a limousine outside was beyond me, but that explained Yuki's unusual parking place.

"Guess like we will just have to ask." Nonchalant, she pressed the bell, serene smirk on her face as waited for Nana to open the door.

"Hello...Oh hi!" Nana yanked open the door, greeting Yuki like she was a long lost friend of hers. "Oh please come in, we have some guests over but I'm sure they wouldn't mind you being here."

We looked at each other, shrugged, and then followed her inside.

It was far too late to back out now.

Buffeted by the smell of fresh cooking, I groaned. It smelt absolutely heavenly. Eager for some food, I hastily took off my shoes, all but barging passed Nana as she escorted us through to the dining room.

"Food, glorious food," I was almost _salivating, _the smell was that good.

"Good to see that kids these days have an appetite!"

It felt like a volcano had gone off nearby; the man's voice was that deep. Nervously,

I sought out the source of the noise, coming face to face with both a tall, jovial man and an old, kindly grandfather figure.

The grandfather even had the _Dumbledore-esque _twinkling eyes going for him.

"Well aren't you a pretty little girl," the outgoing man cheered, nudging Tsuna - who I hadn't even noticed, he was that puny compared to the tall man - in the side. "Is this your girlfriend? Tsu-papa is so proud."

He even had tears in his eyes - just how old _was _this man anyway, as he acts like a child.

"No, Mitsu-kun, that's just Tsuna's friend, Nagi-kun." Nana came to the rescue, interfering before even I could throw my two-pence in.

"Aww, really Tsu-mama?" Tears were building in his eyes, his sorrow palpable. It was as if they were made for each other. One of them over-exaggerates all their problems, the other just sits there and smiles, ready to comfort them.

I pity Nana.

But hey, whatever makes her happy.

"If you're Nagi-kun, then you must be Yuki then," the old man rumbled, easy-going smile on his face.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." The smile she gave was strained at the edges, too perfect in my eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, let me introduce these two to you. That cutie is my husband, Iemitsu, he's a construction worker, and that's my husband's boss, Timoteo, but everyone just calls him Grandfather." Excitable, Nana flamboyantly introduced everyone.

"I'm happy to make your acquaintance, Timoteo-_san, _Iemitsu-_san._" If these two made Yuki wary, someone who is usually so blasé about everything, then they were certainly people who I'll have to tip-toe around.

"Don't be like that, cutie," Iemitsu ruffled my hair, "just call him Grandfather."

"She doesn't have to do anything if she doesn't want to, Iemitsu-san." Yuki moved in front of me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Please, I would rather not." I thought it best to not point out how creepy it was to say that.

"Come on, what harm would it do?" The bear-like man wheedled.

Throughout it all, Tsuna was silent, whilst Timoteo was giving me a pensive stare.

"Iemitsu, if she doesn't want to then you can't really stop her," a frosty look stopped whatever Iemitsu was about to say. "Now, isn't that a pretty dress you're wearing."

"I'm more of a jeans person to be honest; I'm not one for frills." Absentmindedly, I yanked on one of the bows, the red velvet pulling away from as I did so.

"Aww, don't do that, you'll ruin the dress," Timoteo's moustache moved as he spoke.

"I really don't care for this dress," I bit out. "If I was allowed to, I would lock this thing in a high security prison, toss a few chain-toting dementor wannabees in there to make sure it never sees the light of day again, and to top it all off I'd even put it in a vat of acid to ensure that it never is unleashed again."

Takeba paled, pearly orbs widening almost imperceptibly.

Iemitsu's face fell momentarily.

Timoteo's eyes widened with interest.

I had a feeling that today was going to be a_ long_ day.

"C-can we play outside please?" Even Tsuna sensed how tense the atmosphere had become, and I was left wondering what sort of social faux-pas I had just committed.

"Okay honey, but stay safe!" Both Tsuna and I quickly escaped, heading away from the scene before it could degenerate any further.

"Thanks for getting me out of there, Mecha-Tsu." I panted; glad to be out of the oppressive atmosphere. "So what do you want to play?"

His answer was a wide smile that nearly made me melt with how cute it was, before lifting up the ball.

"Catch." Tsuna was decisive, determined.

"If you say so," I ran to the other side of the yard, waiting patiently for Tsuna to pass the ball over.

Poised, he threw the ball, the red orb flying through the air like a magnificent bird.

…I would like to say that, but unfortunately, in typical Tsuna fashion, it stayed in the air for no longer than a second, before tumbling to the ground like all of his dignity.

"That was terrible," stopping the ball with my foot; I picked up the ball, rolling it back over to him. "Here, try again, just put more force into it."

My attempt to be helpful was probably piss-poor, but at least I tried.

"You can do it Tsuna!" I cheered him on, pitying the kid. Older than me and he couldn't throw a ball yet. "Just throw."

"O-Ok," a deep breathe in, and he launched the ball at me. Whilst not Yamamoto-tier just yet, I was proud that he could at least _get it to me._

"Good job, Tsuna. But can you catch?" I had learned a few things from watching Yamabaka, and now was the time to practice them. One foot forward, arm back, and _fire._

With a squeal Tsuna ducked, the ball sailing over his head and out onto the pavement, bouncing ominously in front of the next door neighbour's house.

"I-I'll get it!" He ran before I could even offer, not even tripping up as he tried to get the ball.

"If you insist." I kept an eye on him, just in case something bad happened. I like the boy, as he isn't quite like the other gremlins out there. He's Gizmo to there, well, whatever the ugly looking gremlins were called.

_Oh look, a cute little dog is coming over to say hi._

A small, cute looking Chihuahua was steadily approaching the ball, just as Tsuna got there. They blinked, staring at each other.

It was like love at first sight. They were lovingly gazing into each-other's eyes, and for a moment I thought we were in some parody of a romance film. The dog's tail wagged in happiness, whilst Tsuna opened his mouth as if to say something beautiful.

The dog pounced.

Tsuna screamed.

And suddenly, the world burned _orange._

It was like a shockwave - the dog was sent flying back, whimpering as it hit the ground. Tsuna was crying, a bright orange _flame _burning brightly on his forehead, dancing and splitting and reforming happily.

"What the fuck was that?" Speechless, I just watched on as he cried in the middle of the street.

"He's unlocked his flame."

_Jesus he gave me a heart attack._

"What do you mean, flame?" I faced Timoteo.

"I hope you don't have to find out." Ornate walking stick in hand, Timoteo approached Tsuna, going towards him like he was a wounded animal. "There, there Tsuna, don't cry."

His old, gnarled finger lit up, looking remarkably like E.T, as he pressed it to the flame as it started to writhe in agony. Slowly, the once vibrant flame fizzled out, sputtering to embers as Tsuna's eyes closed, the boy collapsing.

"I feel so confused at the moment." I wasn't even lying – things like this only happen in fairy tales.

"He won't remember any of this." He was sad about that, like he didn't want to put out those flames.

"How come?" I queried, wanting an answer.

"Along with sealing his flames, I stole away his memories."

"His…memories?" Down-heartened, I realised he was probably going to do the same procedure to me. "I'm going to have my memories taken to, aren't I?"

"No, you don't have to worry about that." His kindly smile returned, the twinkle coming back full-force, as he shrugged of his seeming sadness like it was nothing, like he had practiced how to do it a lot. "I wouldn't be able to take those memories; it's far too late anyway."

"Too late?" I glowered. I hated this feeling of bewilderment.

"You're flames have been around for far too long for me to take them away now, and I don't think I can find them now anyway." Grandfather, or so he was dubbed, chuckled, laughing at a joke that only he knew. "You could say that your flames are _mystifying."_

"You must be hungry, kids always are." Timoteo hefted Tsuna up, lifting him like he was as light as a feather. "Let's go back inside."

I agreed, not really paying attention.

I missed the days when things made sense.

I missed being alive.

* * *

_Mirror Mirror on the wall._

Amethyst stared into amethyst, stone-face met stone-face, and indigo flickered in my peripheral vision, unnoticed and humming a silent mournful song.

I looked like a china doll, all artificial emotion and emptiness.

I didn't like what I see.

Flicking off the bathroom light, I went to bed, lulled by the azure tunes of a song that I had never heard before.

* * *

_**Chapter 6, Fin~**_

**This chapter was a thing.**

**Once more thank you for all the support, and I'll get on those replies if you haven't got them yet.**

**Another thing, Halcy will be done near the weekend, I'm really busy now and I don't have time until then. But next chapter should involve more angst due to the gender swap, an exploration of the past and Sakura/Navi interactions. **

**Okay everyone, I hope you've enjoyed, so until next time~**

**Signed, HalcyonNight**


	7. Growth: Eta

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Sadly.**

**Everyone. I have a computer back. I am so happy right now. Also, still on the hunt for a Beta. That is a thing. We should be back to weekly updates, the only reason why this took so long to get out was because of the fact that I can't upload things on my tablet and I couldn't use any of the computers in college because of the service being down due to works.**

**This chapter is angst central. And foreshadowing. And I nearly cried at the end, at a scene that hasn't even been written yet.**

**Anyway, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT! I REALLY LOVE YOU! YOU'RE AWESOME! We are at 36 Reviews/109 FAVORITES/121 FOLLOWS. **

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**NOTE POLL IS UP GO LOOK**

**Sorry for the long A/N, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Sometimes, I lay awake at night, wondering and hoping and breathing, thinking about the life I've left behind.

Today was one of those nights.

I know I shouldn't think about those days, but it's hard, oh so very hard, to forget over twenty years of your life, years that you have spent carelessly, without any fear or pressure to be something that you weren't. I was David.

I couldn't just leave those behind.

I couldn't just forget about the people I've left behind.

I couldn't forget about what he, _I_, stood for.

And the saddest part about it was that, slowly, I was forgetting. Everything. It was as if there was a small, barely visible pinprick in my mind, the thoughts and memories and dreams trickling away, like water tipping from an overfull bucket, displaced by the new. There is a theory in Psychology, that there is an infinite amount of space in memory.

That you can remember and remember and remember until the very day you died.

But then again, no Psychologist has any idea how dying would affect memory either. Since, as far as I know, there haven't been any psychologists that have been _reincarnated. _Or if there was, they have done a very good job of staying hidden, something that I am envious of.

It's a complicated idea, memory. To be honest, now that I sit back and think about it, I was surprised I was able to keep the memories of my previous life. I suppose that was one thing that I could thank Sophia for, the being able to keep my memories intact through whatever method she used to send me here.

Though everything has flaws, everything has something that can go wrong. The thing that had to go wrong was my _memories. _Slowly, but surely, they were disappearing. One by one by _oh-so-painful one _they were fading away. It was benign at first, to the point where it was just childhood memories. I could ignore it then, but now…

I was scared.

I didn't want to lose David. He, I, was important, is important, and I don't want to forget.

"Sophia, help me," in the stolen light of the moon, I prayed, "I don't want to forget."

I don't want to die.

For surely, the moment those memories disappear, David will cease to exist. I'm the last one, the only one, who could ever know that he existed. And wasn't that a sad thought. Soon, all memories of then will be forgotten, and I'll be left as Nagi.

_Just_ Nagi.

It was like there was a fog in place of my memories. No, not in place of my memories, maybe a better way of saying it was that there was a haze enshrouding them. I couldn't remember for the life of me the simple things, like the names of my friends in school, and I was left with only the important things. Like my knowledge, and my family.

I was just glad that I could still remember the names of my parents.

I didn't want to lose them too, like I've lost everything else.

Perturbed, I stood up from my bed, kicking away the smothering blanket. The faces of cartoon puppies looked back at me, as if I was somehow betraying them by leaving them behind, and instead I sat at the old desk. The wood was cool to the touch, yet the surface was bare. All that sat on the top was my book, my photo album.

Rueful, I cracked open the album, the light of the moon illuminating the room and allowing me to see. With a light thud, the caramel cover was knocked to one side, revealing the contents. It was exactly as I left it, all empty sleeves and worn pages, and as I absentmindedly flicked through the pages I couldn't help but feel there was something important inside that I had forgotten. Like there was something there that should be there, but instead wasn't.

Like something inside was taken.

I reached the back page. Still, there was nothing there, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had purposefully put something in here before, and that something had been taken, forcibly. Closing the book, I started over, thinking that if I look close enough that feeling would either disappear or become strong enough for me to discern what's wrong.

Page 1, nothing.

Page 2, nothing.

Page 9, nothing.

The further I went back, the more and more it seemed as if I was just going senile. It would fit. If my memories are going, then I might as well lose my sanity along with them. It had seemed like nothing was out of place, when, in the corner of my eye, I spotted a slip of paper secured to a page near the end. Innocently, the ivory note (it had blended in so well that, as tired as I was, I had completely skipped over its existence) had been tucked in to one of the sleeves, as if it was a picture.

Cautiously, so as to not damage the sleeve by accident, I tugged the note out. It had been put there recently, as far as I could tell, but I was never the best at dating things. I could smell a hint of Yuki's perfume, telling me immediately who had left the note there.

"Why would this…?" Yuki was a confusing individual, the reason behind putting these things here eluding me.

Biting the bullet, I unfolded the small sheet of paper, eyes immediately locking onto the words inside.

_Hi, Nagi-chan!_

_Look how excited I am, I even put an exclamation point. You should feel special, not just anyone gets an exclamation point of me. But enough about how awed you should feel at my benevolence (ben-ehv-o-lence, means kindness, sometimes I'm scared about how much you know for a child, but just in case you don't I'll add the definition here) I think I should go into some detail as to why I put this here._

_As you may have noticed, this thing is pretty much empty. It isn't anywhere near full, when it should be. So I propose a little game (don't worry, not like Jigsaw…I'm sorry if you know who that is) that we can play. If you can't __**smile**__ smile, then maybe you can find reasons to live. I worry about you, a lot. I feel as if any day now you are gonna go off the deep end. Humans are social creatures, they need interaction with the outside world, and I worry that outside of me the only other person you speak to is that boyfriend of yours._

…_Good choice though, he'll grow up to be a looker :D_

_Anyway, fill this album up. For each quarter you fill, I'll give you a word. These words will make a sentence, and this sentence will define me. You should already have some pictures ready, what from that party you went to (you go girl, rock on), so you've got something to fill the first page at least. Good luck!_

_Ciao Ciao._

Dumbfounded, I could only blink. Yuki was well and truly insane. Annoyed, I yanked open the desk drawers, and pulled out a camera. It was the very same camera that she had launched at me before, when I went to my so-called "boyfriend's" birthday party. I had yet to actually print the images on the camera roll, and maybe now would be a good enough time to do so.

The door opened with a light click, as I left the room. Strange as it was, a computer was one of the very few things that I was not allowed to have by my parents. The reasoning was beyond me, but I could only assume that they thought it would get in the way of my studies. This would be next to impossible, as I really don't pay attention to my studies, seeing as it is hard for them to make me interested in things that I already know.

The only computer that I could use was in the family's private living room. This room is used very, _very _rarely, and was a far-cry to what the rest of the house was. I hadn't been in there for a long time, and I was certain that both of the adults had completely forgotten that it existed.

It was aggravating, not having access to the internet.

Entering the room, I quietly closed the door behind me. I didn't want people getting the wrong idea, because if someone thought that there was a burglar on the loose then I'll be in serious trouble. Booting the old thing up, the chair rocked uncertainly as I had to stand on it to reach the tower, and before the whole thing carried me away (I am a child on a _spinny_ chair, I'm not going to risk it) I put the USB cable in.

The red light burned on the camera.

I didn't have to wait long for the Desktop to appear, the old meadow appearing before my eyes. It really was an old computer, aged, a relic almost. I felt old just going on it, and I wouldn't be surprised if it ran on dial-up.

On screen, there was nothing but the image and the toolbar. With a sigh, I clicked on the little flag symbol, calling out a small list. Internet _Navigator _sat nestled between M.S _Draw _and _Calculator_. I didn't need to open up a web browser to print out pictures, but I wanted to do a little research about something.

Idly pressing the button, I waited patiently for the pictures to come out. Usually, I would be averse to printing out paper pictures instead of what they are normally made from (it's probably some crazy chemistry equation that would confuse me – more so than I already am) but this was apparently a "special" printer that printed out "fully photographic images".

The computer, meanwhile, sounded like it was shouting at me – the fan _whirring _wildly as the old computer tried to keep up with the suspiciously high-tech printer. It was almost hilarious, like watching an old man try to chase after an athlete. You know it can't keep up but you can't help but root for the old man to get them.

If it was my old computer, I would just go on the internet, but I was certain that if I dared the whole computer would implode at the strain.

I had wanted to do a bit of investigating on just what I had seen from the Sawada residence.

It's strange. It is something that is so bizarre and out-there and altogether impossible, but Tsuna's head erupted into flame. Whilst I'm certain it would be distressing for Tsuna – after all he was probably afraid of _Disneyland _– but he couldn't remember what happened so he should be fine. At least we had something in common. We had both lost parts of our memories.

I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to that then meets the eye.

I had planned to just ignore the feeling. I had enough on my plate just trying to figure out how Yuki worked, and if I was failing at that then I was definitely going to fail at trying to uncover the mystery surrounding Tsuna's relatives.

Unfortunately, this feeling had yet to pass.

After that bizarre meeting with Timoteo, when he said something that I just couldn't forget about because it was screaming out to me, my thoughts slowly grew into what they were now. I just didn't know what it was screaming, and wasn't that infuriating?

"Your flames have been around for far too long for me to take them away…?" I looked at the ceiling, frown painted on my face, wondering what on Earth that could even mean.

These 'flames' that he mentioned, that I saw on Tsuna's forehead, did everyone have these flames?

Did I, at one point, have those orange flames too?

What he said seems to insinuate this, implying that I have had them for "far too long". But then again, wouldn't I have at least some memory of them?

I didn't, though. No matter how far back I looked, no matter how long I theorised, I just couldn't remember, for the life of me, _where I could have gotten these flames._ I didn't even know where to start even searching for them, so I can't even try to see if that would jog my memory. All I could guess about them was that they are all orange, and it's not as if colour was any indicator of anything.

Unless we're on about English Literature – if we were, then colour is essentially _everything _but its appearance. Blue would be sadness, and calmness. Red would be passion and danger. Orange would be warmth and acceptance.

But colour theory is useless here – I'm not exactly in a story, and the real world isn't as idealised and romanticised as colours would suggest it to be. So the colour is pointless to focus on.

The only other thing I knew about it was that it comes about as a result of trauma. For Tsuna, a puppy set him off of all things, but that holds little relevance to anything. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm no Tsuna. I don't exactly run for the hills when something even floats in my general direction.

I sighed, tiredly forcing my body out of bed. It had slowly dominated my routine, these flames, along with the mystery of Yuki. You really have to wonder how Nagi would have coped with it if she still inhabited this body, because if an adult was having issues with it then a child would not be able to cope with it.

Or maybe that was why I was having so much trouble.

Maybe this was the world's way of showing me the middle finger. I would be the first person to say that I was unnatural, that I shouldn't exist. I was trapped in a dead girl's body, _a ghost in a shell, _and two deaths don't exactly make a life. Sophia had gone against Nature itself when she locked me in this body, and perhaps this was Nature's way of compensating

Just what secrets do you hide?

I had yet to figure out why Nagi was so important that she was needed, that she was so fundamentally tied to this plane of existence that, without her, it would tumble faster than a tower of Jenga. What was it about her that made her special?

Was she destined for fame, a celebrity like her mother? Was she supposed to be an icon, something to be admired and adored by all? Was she supposed to be a medical genius, pumping out cures for diseases that stumped even the greatest doctors?

I missed being able to wake up in the morning with little more to do than study. I missed meeting up with friends, the few that I had, and just whittling the day away with pleasant company. I missed being able to visit my family and just talk with them.

I missed the simplicity of life, of being David.

I regret being chosen, being Sophia's only option. I'm no longer David; I'm no longer that very same person that I used to be. I can no longer meet up with friends. I can no longer work on my Teaching Degree. I can no longer go to my parents for advice.

I was neither Nagi, nor David.

So who am I?

And wasn't _that_ the question of the century?

Tired, I slumped on the chair, the cool leather comforting. It was early, far too early, for these thoughts, and no matter how much I craved for answers I know that I will never get them. This is real life, and sometimes all you can do is suck it up and get it done. All I had to do was survive, reach adulthood, as that was all I was told to do. The way she worded it made it seem like all I had to do was stay alive, so that's what I'll do.

Existing is easy after all.

The fan calmed, the whirring fading, the final picture revealed to the world. Gingerly, I picked them up one by one, careful not to leave any fingerprints. Momentarily leaving them be, I turned my attention back to the computer. I had some research to do about this construction company that Iemitsu works for.

"Now, what was it called…?" I racked my mind for the name, but I don't remember ever being told. "Well, when in doubt…"

When three hours had passed, and I had little luck finding anything out, I shut down the computer and went back to bed.

It didn't take me long to return to sleep.

* * *

"Nagi-chan."

I could smell the cliché a mile off.

Eyes closed, I sighed, wishing above all else that I could return to my blissful slumber. It was far too early to deal with anything that even remotely is associated with Yuki – considering the fact that she is the bane of my existence, and most likely lives off a diet of babies and despair. I could just feel that today was going to be one of those days, where all you want to do is just sleep and cry and live inside the house.

"Rise and shine!"

If I wasn't careful, she would start hovering around the room like a pseudo-maternal fly - which is a weird image, as I couldn't really see Yuki being a parent. She just didn't really seem the sort of person that would have kids, unless they came out the womb fully independent.

"What d'ya want?" I cracked an eye open, sleep blurring my vision, a half-hearted glare aimed in Yuki's general direction.

"Well, I want lots of things," here she sat at the foot of the bed, a furisode slung over her arm, "like a flat-screen TV, a lifetime supply of wine and maybe, depending on the weather for it, a harem of sexy, muscular men, but I don't think that is what you want to hear is it?"

"If that's all," limply, I flopped over, ready to succumb to sleep once again.

I was denied the sleep that I craved, the woman vindictively yanking the covers away from me. Unable to stop the shiver that racked my body as the early morning chill got to it, I was gifted with the sight of a cheerful Yuki.

"Rise and shine, kiddo, we have stuff to do." Carelessly, she let go of the hostage she was holding, the themed fabric tumbling to the floor. "We get to explore the _tasteful _world of tea ceremonies."

"Not in the mood," yawning loudly, all I wanted to do was rest.

"…Aren't children supposed to be running around at this time?" Hands on hips, I was certain that she would be smirking. It was her default expression after all. "It's almost eleven – if I don't get you up then Sakura-sama will have my head. _Literally._ And wouldn't that be a frightening thought? Me without my beautiful visage?"

"I don't think you and I have the same definition of beautiful…" I pointedly glared, wiping sleep out of my eyes as I dragged myself up. "And anyway, it's because of _you_ that I'm so bloody tired in the first place."

"Me?" She pointed at herself, exaggeratedly. "How could little old me have caused you to be so tired? Were you dreaming about me, was that it? If you were, I bet they were the best dreams you've ever experienced."

Despite myself I snorted.

"How very unladylike, maybe I should have sorted out a different outfit for you instead. I don't know; maybe incorporate some of Kirijo-sama's hakama instead." The furisode was waved tauntingly in front of my face, the azure fabric waved tauntingly in front of my face.

"I would have preferred them, to be honest," I hated the extremely long sleeves of the furisode, finding them unwieldy, "at least that way I won't have your eye out with one of the sleeves."

"But look how pretty it'll make you look." It was all but shoved in my face at this point, her tone insistent, "and we're doing tea ceremonies. Again."

"Ahh." I made a brief sound of acknowledgement, mentally writing up my last will and testament.

"Yup, I have recruited some help. I'm surprised at how much the elder Yamamoto knows about traditional ceremonies." I was halfway through deciding who gets to have my puppy plushies when what she said caught up to my mind.

"…Elder Yamamoto?" Was she on about _Tsuyoshi? _If she was, she must be back on the drugs again.

"Yea, you know, Mrs Yamamoto." I felt like an idiot for thinking _Tsuyoshi Yamamoto _was an expert on tea ceremonies. "She is one of the rare people who both know ceremonies and don't get on my nerves."

"You don't like my mother?" It shouldn't be surprising, considering how stand-offish Sakura could be.

"I didn't take this job because I like her, remember, I did it for the money." Dropping the clothes onto my lap, she turned around. "Hurry up; we need to be there by one."

"Yea, money." She just giggled in response, silent smile in her words. "And really, we have ages; we've got nothing to worry about."

"We may have a while, but I'm certain you'd want to talk to that boyfriend of yours," she could be surprisingly thoughtful when it benefited her.

"Boyfriend? Which one? According to you every guy I have ever met is my boyfriend." Dryly, I replied, slipping my hand into the sleeves. Sometimes I wondered if she thought I had built myself a small harem at the age that children first learnt to count.

"When you're older, you'll definitely think the same when you get to be my age. After all, I'm certain you'll be a great manipulator when you reach womanhood." Twirling round, she analysed the clothes before nodding decisively, happy with it.

"There's a link between relationships and manipulation?" I felt like I was missing something here.

"Love doesn't exist." She said it bluntly, easily, as if it was as simple as saying the sky was blue and the grass was green and the world span round. "The love you hear about in all those stories doesn't exist."

"Love doesn't exist, huh?" I echoed, bouncing the words back.

"If someone tells you they love you, they are lying. The best anyone can hope for is to shack up with their best friend, at least that way you can make it work." Yuki, finally finding a fault in my clothing, smoothed out a crease in the fabric.

"But what about family?" If what she was saying was right, then family really was only just a word.

"Oh, family can care for you, and dare I say it, love you. That love exists, the love of family," she smiled softly, as if finding humour in an inside joke, "And friendship, to, exists."

"You don't believe in that one true love thing, huh?" She continued to smile, before beckoning me to follow.

"One true love is a nice idea, but that's all it is - an idea." The crimson lady manoeuvred through the labyrinthine hallways with ease, waving to some of the maids as she passed them. "You'll never find it, because that sort of love just doesn't exist."

"Why tell me that, though? It just seems strange to bring up out of nowhere." Doggedly, I tried my best to keep up with her pace in my dress, cursing the gown with every step I take.

"Just thought you should know." It was said so simply that I almost believed that she said without any reason to, however, I was more than willing to drop the conversation. Love might have been nice in the past, but I really don't see it being a possibility in the near future. Me and love…just isn't a pairing that would make any sense.

"If that's all…" trailing off, I realised that now would be the best time to ask her about that note she left in the album. "Takeba-san."

"Please, how many times do I have to say it? Call me Yuki." Fiercely, the secret cynic interrupted.

"Fine, Yuki," we stuck our tongues out at each other, "I have a question about that note you left me, in my album."

"Oh? So now you decide to find it? I had almost forgotten that thing existed it had been so long." We were both outside now, the elder woman entering the car.

"Did you take anything out? Because I couldn't help but think that something inside was missing…" The hypocrite had the gall to snort, after criticising me for doing so.

"Nope."

And that was that.

"There is also something else that I want to ask you…what's the name of that company is that Timoteo-san, and Iemitsu-san work for?"

The femme fatale answered readily, as if she was prepared for the question.

"I don't know."

The car journey to Takesushi was as silent as the night, and just as unclear.

* * *

Quietly, the car came to a stop, the rumbling of the engine doused as we arrived.

Instead of parking directly outside of the building, Yuki parked off to the side, so as to not block up the entrance with her silver vehicle. With a soundless thunk, the doors unlocked, and the two of us only had to travel a short distance before entering the restaurant.

Not much had changed, since we had last been here. The tables were still arranged in the same way, the room still oozing that aura of entwined time that drew me in before, the room's general décor both modern yet holding elements from the past. Most likely, this was the result of Mrs Yamamoto's influence, as I had seen the sushi chef's fashion sense and it was the stuff of nightmares.

"Still as cute as always," Yuki's voice was barely audible, most likely because of the people here.

I was glad for the Yamamoto's, their business was booming and Takesushi was slowly rising up the ranks of restaurants. I wouldn't be surprised that, if it continued having the growth that it did, they would attract celebrities soon enough.

Suck on that, Jamie Oliver.

"It really is, isn't it?" Either I have grossly mistranslated, or was that an amused giggle coming from my "personal helper"?

"You don't get it, do ya?" Oblivious, I followed the path of her finger, amethyst eyes finally finding what she was on about.

"Ha. Cute, Yuki." Deadpan, I chose to ignore her for the rest of the day. What she was pointing to was the pair of children sat together at the counter, talking to each-other exuberantly. Well, I say "talk to each other", but what I really mean is that one of them is maintaining the conversation and the other one is trying to burn the speaker into ash with eyes alone.

Typical Takeshi behaviour. Don't ever change.

"I know I am," if her hair was longer, I was certain she would flick it. Majestically. "You could only ever hope to look half as cute as I do now. I should feel bad for showing someone who could never hope to be a cute as I my graceful visage, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do."

"You're right, I could only hope that one day I'll reach even half of the cuteness you display," I walked away, ready to join the two children, "but I would rather be _beautiful _than cute anyway."

Men can be beautiful too…right?

Right.

I left the woman to stew, trying my best to strangle the urge to cackle victoriously, taking a seat next to my miniature knight in shining armour. Patiently waiting for him to notice my existence, I waved happily towards the eldest Yamamoto, who was busy cutting up what looked to be a large fish in the backroom. The father quickly finished up, bringing in a cup of green tea as he left the kitchen.

"You came prepared," I nodded towards the cup of tea that was set in front of me.

"The princess said you were coming around this time, so I made a cup of tea in preparation." He laughed cheerfully, before tossing an uncertain look at his son. "Has he noticed you yet?"

"Nope." The "p" sound popped loudly. "He's too busy making friends at the minute to notice me."

"Bah, he's not very perceptive sometimes. He gets like that when he gets passionate about something. Wouldn't notice if the Emperor walked in that one." The fondness in his eyes nearly made me smile.

"So I've seen…" I took a sip of the warm beverage he so kindly set aside for me, careful of both my manners and the scalding temperatures.

"You aren't alone?" Using a subtlety that I had thought impossible for a Yamamoto to have, he gestured towards Yuki, the crimson lady perched on one of the seats on her phone.

I was saved from answering the question when both boys finally noticed my presence.

"Nagi-chan!" I was treated to a Yamamoto-patented hug. "When did you get here?"

"I crawled out of the woodwork." Sarcastic, I didn't fail to notice the look of wonder in his eyes.

"You can crawl out of wood…" he gasped, his eyes glittering with stardust.

"You have got to be kidding me." I muttered under my breath, sighing at the unfairness of it all, whilst also ignoring the booming laughter coming from the stupidly tall Tsuyoshi.

"Takeshi, she's here to see your mother." I noticed the happiness in his voice when he said that, the sheer love in it instantly making me doubt Yuki's nonchalant commentary on love.

"Really?" The baseball enthusiast turned to me, staring at me in a way that I had never seen before. "You be nice to my mother, or else!"

Pardon me whilst I pick my jaw off the floor. Was I being threatened by _Yamamoto Takeshi _of all people.

"Herbivore." I was kidnapped out of my despair by a somewhat familiar voice.

"You." I had no idea who this other boy was, and why he was calling me a herbivore.

I mean, do I _look _like a rabbit?

"Tell me."

"Tell you?"

"_Tell _me."

"Tell you_ what?"_

"You know each other? Are you two friends?" Takeshi looked betrayed. "I didn't know you could make friends!"

…Wow. He knows me well. _Clearly,_

"No, Yamabaka, we don't know each other. I don't even know who this kid is." The caramel eyes widened in understanding, the kid muttering a brief oh in comprehension. "I'm certain we haven't even seen each other before."

"Did you know that nicknames are the first sign of a relationship?" Yuki _literally _appeared out of nowhere, joining the conversation at the mention of a potential relationship.

"Did you crawl out of the woodwork or something?" I didn't realise what impact my words would have until it was too late. Far too late.

"You taught Nagi-chan how to crawl out of the woodwork? Teach me Sensei!" Turning despairing eyes to Tsuyoshi, I mentally pleaded for him to save me from the combined presence of the three idiots. They were like the Three Musketeers if they were all incredibly stupid.

Either he decided to take pity on me, or he was plotting something terrible in hid fluffy mind of his, because the next thing I knew I was sent out the back door and down an old, worn path.

"Just reach the end of the path, and the princess will be there for you." Scratching his stubble, the lovable _oji-san _told me where to go before he returned to his business. "I hope you visit more often, Nagi-hime."

And with a chortle he was gone.

You really have to wonder about that guy sometimes.

With little else to do but enter, I approached the doorway coolly. Yuki was still inside Takesushi, eating like the glutton she was, and I was going in alone.

But I preferred it that way. I can't shake the feeling that, if she was here, I wouldn't be as free as I would be alone.

It would be the plot twist of the century if, when I open this door, Mrs Yamamoto was an ogre. It would actually be welcomed. If she was made up of the same rainbows the other two were then my brain would collapse from the sheer _Kawaii-ness _of it all, and my cynicism and pessimism would shrivel up and die like a slug doused in salt.

Not the prettiest of metaphors, but it gets the job done.

Ironically, I was feeling a strong sense of De Ja Vu, like I had experienced this same feeling of trepidation and hesitance once before. It was just like that time I went to Takeshi's birthday party, except now, oddly enough, I felt like I was more prepared for it.

I entered, inhaled the scent of the vanilla candles, and I saw her for the first time.

Long onyx hair tumbled down in waves, the inky tresses framing her smiling face, as she patiently waited for me to take a seat in front of her. Her caramel eyes, the same eyes that the youngest Yamamoto was blessed with, burned dimly with warmth and compassion. I felt inferior in her presence, and I could see why she was so adored by her family. I didn't even know her and I could see why Yuki liked her, and that was something that I never thought I would say.

Mrs Yamamoto was a real life Yamato Nadeshiko.

"Take a seat, I won't bite." Here ever-present smile lingered, but the closer I got to her the more I felt my perspective of her changing.

She was like a star, bright and burning, but the closer you get to it, the less otherworldly it seemed.

Her skin was pale, too pale, and she looked weak. Frail. Like a porcelain doll that, if tipped, would shatter into pieces. I was eerily reminded of my own mortality observing her, reminded of the fact that everything eventually dies.

"You're dying." The moment I said it I regretted it, and I wished I could take it back. It was rude and crass and she didn't deserve me saying it.

She was momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly enough.

"Tsubaka did say you were perceptive, I didn't realise just how true that was." She giggled, before being racked with harsh coughs. "My name is Yamamoto Kiyomi, pleasure to meet you."

Kiyomi. 'Pure Beauty'.

Her appearance fit her name.

"I know I said that I'll be helping with your tea ceremony, but…" Kiyomi's eyes twinkled mischievously, "I'd much rather get to know you."

"I'm not that interesting…" I demurred.

"Oh, but you are. I haven't seen a child so sad before." Pouring herself some tea, she gracefully sipped the warm liquid. "Tell me what's wrong, kiddo."

"I'm not sad." It came out automatically, a response that I had no control over.

But I was okay wasn't I?

There wasn't anything wrong, was there? My life was fine, dandy. I was okay. I can live. That's what I can do. It's easy. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Child's play.

"You've lied to yourself for too long haven't you?" Kiyomi reached out, frail body capturing me in the warmest embrace that I could remember.

Closing my eyes, I could feel tears building.

When I next opened my eyes, I knew what I had to do.

* * *

_**Chapter 7, Fin~**_

**Shh, dodgy cliffhanger is coming at ya. Hopefully, in the next few chapters we can work through some of the issues that Navi (David and Nagi) has, but not all. Then after we work through some of that, we can go through some more humorous bits to lighten it all up. Despite what it may seem, this is both a humour fic and an angst fic, so there will be equal parts of both inside.**

**My body is ready to work through character development.**

**Also, REMEMBER TO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO TO CELEBRATE 100+ FOLLOWS AND FAVES! I was thinking a one-shot humour fic to balance out the OMG Angst storm approaching. If you do, just let me know and I'll figure the rest out. You could just say something as brief as "oneshot in Tsuna's P.O.V" and I'll do the oneshot from the perspective of Tsuna.**

**PLUS, how much do you guys want me to do a time-skip? I don't know if I should do one, but just in case the pacing is too slow just let me know if you think it's a good idea.**

**With that all done, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope to see you again for chapter 8~**

**Signed, HalcyonNight.**


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